MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


UNIVERSITY  of  CAL1 
J/\    **J& 


•  '    '    ' 


RAFAEL 


tl  BECAUSE  OF  ONE  LITTLE  WHITE  VAMPIRE." 


FOR  THE  SOUL  OF 


RAFAEL 


MARAH  ELLIS  RYAN 


AUTHOR  OF  "TOLD  IN  THE  HILLS" 
"THE  BONDWOMAN^ETC. 


\VTTH  MANY  ILLUSTRATIONS  FROM 


PHOTOGRAPHS  TAKEN  EXPRESSLY  FOR  THIS  BOOK 


HAROLD  A.TAYLOR 


DECORATIVE  DESIGNS  BY 
RALPH  FLETCHER  SEYMOUR 


A.C.MCCLURG  &  co. 


COPYRIGHT 

A.  C.  McCLURG  *  CO. 

1906 
Entered  at  Stationers  Hall,  London 

Photographs  by  HAROLD  A.  TAYLOR,  by  permission  of 
The  Hallett-Taylor  Company 

The  Author  is  indebted  to  the  Southwest  Society  of  the 

Archaeological  Institute  of  America  for  the 

Spanish  Music  contained  in 

this  volume 


Published  May  12, 1906 

Second  Edition,  Sept.  15,  1906 

Third  Edition,  Oct.  i,  1906 

Fourth  Edition,  Dec.  5, 1906 

Filth  Edition,  Dec.  15,  1906 

Sixth  Edition,  Feb.  n,  1907 

7th  Edition,  Aug.  31,  1907 

8th  Edition,  Jan.  12,  1909 

gth  Edition,  April  30,  1909 

loth  Edition,  Oct.  15,  iqio 

nth  Edition,  Nov.  10,  1914 


35  J 

/^    9j 

Coh     / 
A  MIS  AMIGOS  DE  CALIFORNIA 

que  siempre  me  han  prestado  su  ayuda  con 
aquella   bonded  que  les  es  caracteristica. 

M.  E.  R. 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 


BECAUSE  OF  ONE  LITTLE  WHITE  VAMPIRE"    Frontispiece 


DONA  ANGELA        ....... 

RAQUEL  ESTEVAN  ....... 

KEITH   BRYTON      ....... 

"NEVER  ON   ANY  OTHER  SHORE" 

"You  LIED  TO  ME  —  ALL  OF  You!" 

"RUELAS  ME  FECIT:  ME  LLAMA  SAN  JUAN.  1796." 

"THEN  I   HEARD  YOUR  VOICE"     . 

"HERE  AMONG  THE  RUINS  CONSECRATED" 

"THERE  is  No  FORGETTING"         . 

THE  ALISO  TREE  ....... 

AN  INNER  COURT  ....... 

THE   SERENADE       ....... 

"AFTER  THE  VERY  GAY  SUPPER" 
"  THEIR  HOSTESS  HAD  ARRIVED  "  ... 

"AND — HE  WAS  AN  ARTEAGA!" 
"£ACH  WAY   HE   TURNED  HE  MET  AN  ALTAR  OR 
A  PRIEST"        ....... 

"ONE  WORDLESS  MINUTE"    . 
"THINGS  KNOWN  AND  NEVER  TOLD" 


32 
56 
62 
128 
166 
176 
240 
260 
278 
294 
302 
312 
316 
320 
334 

352 

368 

372 


La  Calandrla 
[The  Meadow  Lark] 


Cap  -  1-  tan    de  un      bar   -   co      Mees-cri-bio  un  pa   -  pel 


Que      si     ne       que    •    ri     •     a 


m 


m 


FORTHE  SOUL  OF  RAFAEL 


CHAPTER  I 


VER  the  valley  of  the  Mission 
of  the  Tragedies,  the  grass  was 
knee-deep  in  March  that  year. 
The  horses  galloping  from  the 
mesa  trail  down  to  Boca  de  la 
Playa  (the  mouth  of  the  ocean) 
were  fat  and  sleek  and  tricky  as 
they  ran  neck  and  neck  past  the  corral  of  the  lit 
tle  plain,  and  splashed  in  glee  through  the  San  Juan 
River,  where  it  ends  its  short  run  from  the  Sierras  to 
the  Pacific. 

Where  the  west  trail  hugged  the  hill,  two  men  sat 
their  broncos,  watching  that  no  strays  break  for  the 
mesa  above;  and  beyond  the  cross  on  Avila's  hill,  other 
vaqueros  guarded  El  Camino  Real  (the  road  royal), 
lest  in  the  whirl  and  dash  of  the  round-up  rebels 
might  break  for  the  open  and  a  stampede  undo  all  the 
riding  since  dawn  of  day. 

High  above  on  the  western  cliff  a  giant  head  of 
cactus  reared  infernal  arms  and  luminous  bloom. 
One  immense  clump  threw  a  shadow  across  the  cliff 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

road  where  it  leaves  the  river  plain  and  winds  along  the 
canon  to  the  mesa  above  the  sea, —  the  road  over 
which  in  the  old  days  the  Mission  Indians  bore  hides 
to  the  ships  and  flung  them  from  the  cliffs  to  the 
waiting  boats  below. 

A  man  stood  back  of  the  cactus  watching  with  tire 
less  eyes  the  dividing  of  the  herds  and  the  quick 
work  of  the  vaqueros  as  their  excited  mustangs  raced 
for  a  stray  or  a  rebel  from  the  ranks.  A  dark  scrape 
was  at  his  feet,  the  dust  of  the  roads  on  his  face,  and 
when  he  removed  his  sombrero  to  light  a  cigarro  in  its 
shelter,  there  was  disclosed  a  great  shock  of  black  hair 
worn  unusually  long,  and  matching  in  unkemptness 
the  full  beard  covering  his  face  almost  to  his  black 
velvety  eyes. 

They  were  the  one  youthful  feature  in  an  otherwise 
weather-worn  visage,  and  at  the  sound  of  horse  hoofs 
on  the  road,  they  opened  wider,  listening,  alert,  yet  he 
did  not  turn  to  look  whence  the  sounds  came.  Instead, 
he  dropped  silently  to  the  serape,  crushed  the  end  of 
the  cigarro  against  a  cactus  leaf,  and  waited,  as  still  and 
as  safe  from  detection  as  a  lizard  of  the  mesa  in  a  sage 
thicket. 

He  could  see  clearly  the  face  of  Don  Antonio,  the 
major-domo,  and  instinctively  his  right  hand  reached 
for  his  gun.  Then  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  at  his 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

own  folly,  and  bent  his  head  to  listen.  Don  Antonio 
was  speaking  Americano  to  a  man  riding  beside  him, 
and  the  man  behind  the  cactus  frowned  impatiently, — 
the  villanous  tongue  was  an  added  grievance.  A  few 
rebellious  animals  had  made  a  dash  for  the  cliff,  and 
Don  Antonio  waved  his  sombrero  and  ranged  his 
horse  across  the  road.  His  companion  did  the  same, 
and  to  give  the  vaqueros  time  to  cross  the  river  after 
them,  the  two  stood  guard  in  the  shadow  of  the 
cactus,  and  rolled  cigarros  and  smoked  leisurely,  while 
the  horsemen,  in  jingling  spurs  and  all  the  bravery  of 
the  Mexican  riders'  outfit,  circled  and  lassoed  the  pick 
of  the  herd  for  the  Apache  work  of  the  government 
in  the  desert  lands. 

"It  is  quicker  done  than  it  was  a  year  ago,"  the 
American  remarked  approvingly,  "and  the  horses  are 
in  better  condition.  If  you  can  let  us  have  the  five 
hundred  from  the  La  Paz  ranges,  there  should  be  no 
trouble  about  making  up  the  other  five  hundred  from 
the  San  Mateo." 

"Not  any,  senor,"  agreed  Don  Antonio,  "I  send 
a  man  down  to  have  them  round-up  for  next  week. 
You  no  want  that  they  begin  sooner  than  that?" 

"To-morrow,"  returned  the  other  with  smiling 
decision. 

"To-morrow!     Holy  Maria  and  Jose!    You  will 

[-3] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

cut  out  the  fiesta  and  the  barbecue  always  given  for 
the  army  men?  Senor  Bryton,  the  Don  Miguel  and 
Don  Rafael  Arteaga  will  feel  offend  if  you  refuse  their 
hospitality  except  for  the  little  —  little  while  the  horse 
herd  is  arranged  for." 

"Sorry  to  offend  the  young  men,"  observed  the 
other.  "  But  since  Don  Miguel  is  ranging  in  some 
other  part  of  California,  and  your  Don  Rafael  is  in 
Mexico  getting  married  or  making  love, — which  is 
it?  —  I  reckon  they  will  not  miss  us  much." 

"  No,  senor,  it  is  not  to  marry  down  there,  only  to 
make  it  all  arrange.  His  mother,  the  Dona  Luisa,  is 
there  in  Mexico  since  San  Pascual;  but  Doila  Luisa 
will  be  more  old  and  crippled  than  she  is  now,  before 
she  lets  Don  Rafael  be  marry  outside  her  own  Mis 
sion." 

"So  they  come  back  here  for  the  ceremony?" 

"  Sure !  Dona  Luisa  she  marry  Don  Vicente,  here 
in  San  Juan  Capistrano.  It  is  here  he  have  the  big 
trouble  with  the  padre,  and  the  padre  put  the  curse 
on  him  that  long  time  ago.  It  is  here  that  he  is 
brought  back  dead  from  San  Pascual.  And  now  when 
the  sons  have  make  much  trouble,  all  are  dead  but 
two,  and  when  Dona  Luisa,  who  was  so  proud,  has 
only  Indian  grandchildren,  she  wants  to  marry  Rafael 
to  a  senorita  who  is  half  a  nun,  that  the  curse  may  be 

[-4] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

lifted.  She  think  that  girl  do  more  to  keep  him 
from  walking  in  Miguel's  shoes  than  prayers  to  the 
saints  can  do;  and  it  may  be, — who  knows?  I  hear 
you  talking  of  the  padre's  curse  to  the  Alcalde,  so  I 
know  you  hearing  the  story." 

"Um  —  something  of  church  property  south  of 
here,  wasn't  it?"  remarked  the  American.  "Yes,  I 
remember.  There  goes  a  mare  that  is  a  beauty  for  a 
mustang." 

"  Some  few  years,  and  you  no  getting  that  strong, 
wild  stock  some  more,"  he  observed.  "  Miguel  and 
Rafael  want  English  stallions  and  such  other  breeds. 
They  will  have  English  stock  and  American  customs. 
The  saints  keep  Dona  Luisa  from  hearing  them  all.  I 
mean  no  discourtesy,  sefior,  but  she  is  an  old  woman 
now,  and  left  her  home  because  she  would  not  live  in 
your  government.  She  comes  back  for  duty  and  the 
marriage;  but  the  old  never  change,  sefior,  and  she  is 
hating  it  till  she  die." 

The  American  cast  his  eyes  northward  where  the 
heights  of  San  Jacinto  stood  guard  over  the  beautiful 
valley.  Willows  marked  the  course  of  Trabuco  Creek 
and  San  Juan  River,  and  on  the  plateau  between  them 
gleamed  the  ruined  dome  of  the  old  mission,  a  rem 
nant  of  beauty  such  as  the  ranging  American  meets 
with  in  Latin  lands,  seldom  in  his  own,  and  admires, 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAE 

and  wonders  if  it  was  worth  while,  and  drifts  away 
again,  but  never  quite  forgets. 

Yellow-white  it  gleamed  like  an  opal  in  a  setting  of 
velvety  ranges  under  turquoise  skies.  About  its  walls 
were  the  clustered  adobes  of  the  Mexicans,  like  chil 
dren  creeping  close  to  the  feet  of  the  one  mother;  and 
beyond  that  the  illimitable  ranges  of  mesa  and  valley, 
of  live-oak  groves  and  knee-deep  meadows,  of  count 
less  springs  and  canons  of  mystery,  whence  gold  was 
washed  in  the  freshets ;  and  over  all,  eloquent,  insistent, 
appealing,  the  note  of  the  meadow-lark  cutting  clearly 
through  the  hoof-beats  of  the  herd  and  the  calls  of  the 
vaqueros. 

"  I  think  I  should  hate  it,  too,"  he  said  at  last. 
"They  lived  like  kings  and  made  their  own  laws  in 
those  days.  After  being  a  queen  of  all  this,  it  would 
be  hard  to  be  subject  to  new  forms." 

"  That  is  it,  seftor,  she  never  get  used  to  like  the 
American  flag.  That  why  she  want  always  that  Don 
Rafael  marry  South,  a  good  Catholic,  and  a  seftorita 
of  Mexico.  She  only  living  for  that,  they  say.  Now 
when  it  is  done  she  die  in  peace." 

"And  Rafael,  how  will  he  manage  his  American 
deals  when — " 

Don  Antonio  shrugged  his  shoulders  doubtfully, 
knows?  I  glad  I  living  my  young  life  in 
[16] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

other  days.  The  fences  have  make  ruin  of  the  country 
in  the  north ;  after  a  while  it  is  down  here  all  the  same. 
All  cut  up  in  little  gardens.  Who  knows? " 

The  American  restrained  a  smile  as  he  thought  of 
the  sixty-five  miles  they  had  ridden  across,  and  only  one 
little  German  colony  where  fence  or  hedges  were  in 
evidence.  For  the  rest  all  was  fenced  on  the  east  by 
the  mountains  and  on  the  west  by  the  sea.  On  the 
north  the  Santa  Barbara  range  would  perhaps  serve  as 
a  barricade,  and  south  even  the  Mexican  line  raised 
no  obstacle  to  roving  herds. 

"The  fences  will  not  come  in  our  day,  and  it  is  all 
now  to  be  a  pleasure  ground  for  your  gay  Don  Ra 
fael." 

"  Not  so  much  of  a  pleasure  ground  as  it  looks, 
senor,"  observed  Don  Antonio  dryly.  "  The  same 
curse  works  still.  It  is  good  he  marries  a  convent 
girl ;  it  takes  the  prayers  of  Dona  Luisa,  and  a  saint 
besides,  to  clear  these  ranges  of  Barto  Nordico,  el 
Capitan." 

The  man  on  the  scrape  shrugged  his  shoulders  and 
lifted  his  head,  resting  it  on  his  hands  to  listen  better. 

"Nordico?  Oh,  yes!  the  man  with  an  eye  for 
good  horses." 

"  If  it  were  only  an  eye,"  grumbled  Don  Antonio, 
"but  the  devil  seems  to  have  a  hundred  hands,  and 

[-7] 


i 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

his  reata  touches  only  the  first  stock  on  the  Arteaga 
ranches." 

"  Not  only  the  Arteagas',  I  suppose?" 

Oh,  you  not  hearing  that?"  and  the  older  man's 
tone  expressed  surprise.  "It  going  with  the  curse, 
maybe,  we  not  knowing.  Old  Don  Vicente  have  the 
brother  Ramon,  but  Vicente  buy  up  all  Ramon's 
land  some  way.  Ramon  goes  crazy  mad,  loco,  on  that 
account.  And  then  his  son,  Barto,  he  study  for  the 
priest,  that  is  when  the  war  comes,  and  he  is  only  little 
yet.  He  running  away  from  school  to  fight;  but  all 
he  can  do  is  to  carry  the  letters,  he  is  so  little  and  can 
ride  so  like  the  devil.  He  never  is  content  to  the 
American  flags,  no  more  than  Dona  Luisa,  so  he  just 
keeping  on  to  fight,  and  the  government  no  getting 
him." 

"Do  they  try?"  asked  the  American. 

"  Do  they  —  do  they  try  ?  Since  he  joined  Juan 
Flores,  one  dozen  men  in  Capistrano  have  the  sword 
cut  or  the  bullet  mark,  who  have  gone  to  try  for  that 
reward.  It  is  good  money,  but  no  one  getting  it.  He 
is  a  devil." 

"  But  I  don't  understand.  You  make  him  out  an 
Arteaga,  yet  he  is  called  Nordico?" 

"Oh,  he  hating  the  Arteagas,  so  he  taking  his 
mother's  name.  He  take  the  government  mail 

[18] 


r. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

sometimes,  and  he  takes  the  Arteaga  horses  always, 
and  no  one  ever  finds  him  any  place.  While  men 
follow  his  trail  for  the  mountains,  he  is  out  in  a  boat 
on  the  sea.  The  saints  send  that  he  does  not  meet 
the  marriage  gifts  of  Don  Rafael." 

The  man  behind  the  cactus  fairly  held  his  breath. 

"  Whew!  would  he  attack  the  Mission  or  the  town?" 

"  It  would  not  be  the  first  time,"  returned  Antonio, 
"  but  it  is  of  the  bride-chests  on  the  journey  that  I 
speak.  Sixty  miles  of  land  they  must  cover  from  San 
Diego,  and  they  cost  more  than  a  herd  of  horses." 

"  Rafael  can  replace  the  gifts,"  observed  the  Amer 
ican,  uso  long  as  his  bandit  cousin  does  not  kidnap 
the  bride ;  but  even  that,  I  suppose,  might  be  done  in 
this  land  of  lonely  ranges." 

The  man  under  the  cactus  nodded  and  showed  his 
teeth  in  an  appreciative  smile.  He  had  met  good  for 
tune  for  his  long  vigil ;  it  was  a  day  of  luck,  and  he 
crossed  himself. 

The  vaqueros  had  circled  the  rebellious  animals, 
and  headed  them  back. 

"  It  is  true,  the  horses  are  in  better  condition  this 
year,"  conceded  the  major-domo  as  they  watched  the 
horses  loping  along  the  river  side.  "  Do  you  send 
them  all  together,  or  by  the  five  hundred,  across  the 
range,  Seftor  Bryton  ? " 

t'9] 


Wfa 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"  By  the  five  hundred,  I  think  the  lieutenant 
said,"  replied  Bryton.  "  It  is  not  easy  to  feed  more 
in  one  bunch  on  the  journey." 

The  man  behind  the  cactus  arose  stealthily  and 
stretched  his  arms  as  the  hoof-beats  grew  more  faint. 

"Senor  Bryton  —  eh?"  and  he  shrugged  his 
shoulders  contentedly.  "  The  clever  Bryton  who  put 
us  off  the  track  last  year  and  took  the  stock  by  the 
north !  This  time  he  will  not  be  so  clever.  Still,  he 
gives  a  man  ideas  in  the  head, —  may  he  have  an  easy 
death  for  that !  Rafael's  good  friend  who  picks  the 
good  horses  for  the  good  government ! " 


[20] 


La  Vluda. 


Cor  -  re      mu  -  cha-cho    a  la  ygles  -  i  -  a,        Di  -  le        al    sa  -  cris* 

3==    .  i  f    •    f  i  r  >- 


tan     may  -  or,     Que     re    -    pi  -  que  las  cam  -  pan  -  as,   tan !  tan ! 

CHAPTER  II 


EN  make  plans,  and  the  devil 
makes  other  plans  —  and  the 
devil's  plan  has  always  the  luck 
with  it." 

I  Don  Antonio  had  expressed 
himself  thus  to  the  army  men, 
who  fumed  and  fretted  at  delays 
incident  to  the  funeral  ceremonies  of  Miguel  Arteaga, 
for  whom  the  Mission  bells  clanged  in  the  gray  of  a 
morning,  and  the  word  went  out  that  he  lay  trampled 
into  the  dust  of  the  Santa  Ana  ranch.  A  thousand 
head  of  stampeding  cattle  had  gone  over  him,  and  the 
younger  brother  —  the  handsome  Rafael  —  was  now 
the  head  of  the  Arteaga  family.  And  with  half  the 
horses  selected  for  the  government,  the  work  had 
stopped  short.  There  was  no  head  to  anything 
now  until  Rafael  arrived.  In  vain  the  army  men 

[21] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

swore,  and  went  farther  south  to  secure  mounts  for  the 
regiment.  They  had  to  come  back  to  San  Juan,  and 
then  it  was  that  Keith  Bryton,  with  his  knowledge  of 
the  people  and  of  the  country,  came  to  their  aid. 

He  heard  that  the  debonair  Rafael  had  landed  at  San 
Pedro  the  day  of  the  death,  and  had  quietly  lost  him 
self  from  the  dismal  ceremonies  awaiting  him  in  his 
own  province.  Miguel  could  not  be  seen ;  what  use 
was  it  to  witness  the  howling  mob  of  Indian  retainers? 

Bryton,  knowing  something  and  surmising  more  of 
the  situation,  held  the  army  men  with  some  promise  to 
"  fix  things,"  and  secretly  despatched  a  trusted  vaquero 
with  a  letter  to  San  Pedro,  allowing  the  new  heir  for 
his  return  just  the  time  necessary  for  the  next  ship 
to  come  into  the  harbor,  and  the  extra  day's  drive 
from  Los  Angeles.  In  the  meantime  a  personal  letter 
giving  orders  to  Don  Antonio  to  hand  over  the  stock 
as  per  contract  was  needed  badly  in  San  Juan,  if  Don 
Rafael  ever  cared  again  for  government  favors. 

The  vaquero  rode  back  in  forty-eight  hours  with  the 
order.  The  work  of  rounding-up  began  over  again, 
and  only  Keith  Bryton  and  Don  Antonio  knew  how 
it  had  come  about. 

Slowly  affairs  began  to  assume  their  usual  routine. 
People  began  to  talk  of  other  things;  and  only  Dofta 
Teresa,  the  widow  of  Miguel,  continued  to  go  daily  to 

"22" 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  dark  old  chapel  back  of  the  Mission  dining-room, 
and  kneel  in  prayer  before  the  wooden  saints  in  the 
niches.  She  sat  in  the  patio  of  Juan  Alvara's  house, 
and  stared  listlessly  from  one  square  of  tiling  in  the 
pavement  to  another.  The  priest  had  just  left  her  after 
the  perfunctory  words  of  solace,  and  was  refreshing 
himself  with  a  glass  of  brandy  preparatory  to  a  game 
Qfmalilla.  The  week  had  been  one  of  trial;  it  always  is 
so  when  the  death  is  one  of  accident — no  one  is  ready. 

The  Dona  Teresa  had  been  a  pretty  girl  in  the  days 
when  Miguel  Arteaga  serenaded  her  endlessly,  and  her 
family  had  insisted  that  the  marriage  should  not  be 
postponed  to  add  to  their  sleepless  nights.  One  year — 
two  years,  and  the  serenades  were  a  thing  of  a  former 
life,  and  so  was  fat  Teresa's  beauty.  From  the  willows 
was  brought  again  the  Indian  girl  whose  two  children 
had  been  christened  in  his  name.  She  looked  after 
the  servants  who  cooked  for  the  vaqueros.  Her  man 
ner  was  ever  quiet  and  submissive  to  Dona  Teresa,  who 
accepted  her  as  better  than  any  of  the  others  of  the 
same  class.  Dona  Teresa  had  no  children,  and  envied 
though  she  was  not  jealous  of  Aguada  of  the  smoke- 
black  eyes  and  the  babies.  And  it  was  Aguada  who 
came  to  Dona  Teresa  in  the  patio,  undid  her  bonnet- 
strings,  and  bathed  her  face  and  hands  with  cool  water. 

Past  the  veranda  of  Juan  Alvara,  at  San  Juan,  all 

fed 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

the  world  of  Southern  California  found  its  way. 
There  was  a  tavern  down  the  street,  where  the  stages 
stopped  between  Los  Angeles  and  San  Diego,  but  Juan 
Alvara's  house  was  the  one  dwelling  where  distin 
guished  travellers  were  entertained,  after  the  hospitality 
of  the  padres  at  the  Mission  was  a  thing  of  the  past. 
It  was  up  to  this  veranda  Keith  Bryton  rode  from  the 
second  round-up  at  Boca  de  la  Playa.  He  was  tired 
and  dusty,  and  accepted  gratefully  the  wine  for  which 
the  old  man  sent  when  he  saw  his  guest  approaching. 

Alvara  did  not  usually  like  "Gringos";  but  at  the 
time  the  Juan  Flores  bandits  were  holding  up  the  town 
for  ransom,  it  was  Keith  Bryton  who  had  gathered  a  posse 
I  of  men,  including  the  sheriff,  and  headed  them  again 
for  San  Juan.  Grain-sacks  were  piled  along  the  roof 
of  the  Mission  as  a  barricade,  and  behind  them  some 
riflemen  guarded,  as  best  they  could,  the  several  families 
who  had  fled  to  the  walls  of  the  church  for  protection. 

Only  one  store  had  been  burned,  and  one  store 
keeper  killed,  when  the  help  came — thanks  to  Bryton, 
and  that  one  ride  broke  down  all  barriers  for  the 
young  Gringo  in  San  Juan.  He  now  never  rode  past 
Alvara's  veranda  without  a  halt  for  a  glass  of  wine,  or 
a  chat,  or  even  that  best  test  of  understanding,  a  rest 
in  silence  together,  looking  out  across  the  river  to  the 
blue  shadows  of  the  hills. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

This  day  as  the  young  man  sat  smoking  in  such 
silence,  viewing  idly  the  passing  Indians  whose  dark 
faces  were  lit  by  the  rosy  glow  of  the  lowering  sun, 
and  watching  the  circling  doves  whose  white  wings 
caught  flashes  of  pink  from  pink  clouds  above,  the 
older  man,  regarding  his  thoughtful  face,  asked  after 
a  quiet  interval,  "What  is  it,  my  friend?" 

The  handsome  bronzed  young  fellow  stretched 
wide  his  arms  with  a  great  sigh,  and  laughed  shortly. 

"Foolishness,  Don  Juan,  much  foolishness.  I  was 
homesick  for  a  something  I  never  knew,  so  I  left  Los 
Angeles  and  came  here  to  find  it.  Can  you  under 
stand  so  crazy  a  thing  as  that?" 

The  old  man  nodded  slowly. 

"It  is  a  girl — no?" 

The  young  man  laughed  again,  without  mirth. 

"Which  of  them?"  and  Bryton  made  a  gesture 
toward  a  group  of  dark  faces  across  the  plaza. 
"There  is  pretty  Lizetta,  Teresa;  and  if  one  wants 
the  other  sort,  there  is  Chola  Martina  staring  at  us 
both  under  her  mantilla." 

"It  is  you  she  stares  at.  The  Lieutenant  danced 
with  her  last  night.  He  is  just  off  the  ranges,  so  she 
is  to-day  crazy  over  the  Americanos.  No — it  is  not 
any  of  such  girls  you  are  for." 

"I  reckon  not,"  agreed  the  young  fellow.    "I  think 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

it  is  just  the  atmosphere,  and  perhaps  the  old  mon 
astery.  The  pictures  of  Mexican  towns  paint  them 
selves  on  the  memory  and  stay  there.  Were  you 
ever  in  Old  Mexico,  Don  Juan?" 

"  Not  I ;  never  have  I  been  a  travelled  man.  But 
you — ?" 

"I  was  down  there  a  year  ago,"  answered  Bryton, 
looking  hard  at  the  hills.  "  I  found  a  town  in  a  valley 
like  this, — there  were  just  the  same  sort  of  'dobes,  and 
the  same  sort  of  big  church  walls, — only  it  was  a  nuns' 
cloister,  instead  of  a  deserted  monastery." 

"And—?" 

"I'll  never  go  back,  but — I'll  never  forget  it! 
That  old  broken  wall,  and  Moorish  chimney,  and 
the  doves — they  all  belong  to  the  same  sort  of  pic 
ture.  I  come  here  to  sit  and  moon  over  them  once 
in  a  while,  that's  all!" 

The  old  man  regarded  him  with  shrewd,  kindly 
eyes.  He  had  the  strain  of  Spanish  blood,  condoning 
many  follies  of  youth. 

"So!"  he  said,  kindly.  "Thou  comest  here  to 
dance  with  the  girls  of  San  Juan,  that  the  other  girl 
may  be  forgotten?  Ai — yi! — these  other  sweethearts 
are  fellows  who  make  much  trouble! — so?" 

"It  is  something  more  than  a  sweetheart  keeps 
me  away,"  remarked  the  young  fellow  after  a  slight 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

pause.  "A  mere  sweetheart  is  not  such  a  barricade; 
most  of  us  are  perverse  enough  to  think  it  rather  an 
incentive." 

"You  too,  my  friend?" 

"Who  knows?" 

The  old  man  puffed  out  another  cigaretto  and 
threw  the  stump  away  before  he  spoke. 

"The  wives  of  other  men  it  is  wise  to  go  clear  of, 
my  friend." 

Keith  laughed  more  than  the  remark  called  for;  in 
fact,  his  amusement  dispelled  the  murky  thoughts  by 
which  he  had  been  driven  to  the  hospitable  veranda. 

"True — very  true;  but  which  of  us  is  always  wise?" 

Alvara  made  no  reply  to  this,  only  shook  his  head, 
and  the  other,  noting  the  perplexity  of  it,  chuckled. 

"Don't  lose  sleep  over  my  depravity,"  he  sug 
gested.  "  I  am  no  blacker  than  the  rest  of  the 
sheep." 

"Even  then  thou  wouldst  fall  far  short  of  white 
ness/'  remarked  the  older  man.  "The  padre  swears 
that  San  Juan  will  have  worse  than  earthquakes  if 
there  is  no  reform." 

"That  is  bad,"  said  Keith,  with  owl-like  gravity. 

"It  is  bad,  senor — and  it  is  true.  I  heard  him  say 
it  but  an  hour  ago.  He  was  playing  malilla  with  old 
Henrico  and  won  three  pesos.  He  says  it  is  wrong  to 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

race  horses  on  Sunday,  since  Jose  went  under  and  had 
his  neck  broke.  Jose,  like  Miguel,  had  not  confessed, 
and  the  padre  wants  money  for  a  mass." 

"Will  he  get  it?" 

"Sure.  The  boys  will  not  see  him  stay  in  purga 
tory  for  thirty  pesos.  They  are  throwing  dice  at 
Don  Eduardo's  now,  to  see  who  will  pay." 

"If  it  was  the  horse  of  Don  Eduardo,  and  Jose  had 
ridden  for  him  ten  years,  why  cannot  Don  Eduardo 
pay?" 

"Don  Eduardo  is  English.  The  Englishmen  are 
used  to  going  to  hell." 

"They  would  deserve  to  go  for  that,  if  for  noth 
ing  else,"  commented  Bryton,  as  the  report  of  a  blast 
shook  the  ground,  and  across  the  plaza  the  air  was 
filled  with  flying  rock  and  brick  and  plaster;  and  then 
a  great  cloud  of  dust  drifted  upward  as  the  Mexican 
workmen  strolled  back  to  their  task  of  tearing  down 
the  old  church  of  San  Juan  Capistrano,  whose  mas 
sive  stone  walls  it  had  taken  the  padres  and  their 
neophytes  so  many  years  of  toil  to  complete. 

"Not  a  church  equal  to  it  in  the  Californias;  not  a 
church  equal  to  it  dreamed  of  in  the  States  when  it 
was  being  built!"  and  the  young  fellow  stared  moodily 
at  the  devastation  of  it.  "Can't  the  bishop  stop 
that?" 

[28] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Ten  years  the  Church  fight  to  get  it  back.  They 
must  win  some  day — oh,  yes — sure!" 

"But  what  will  they  have  when  the  suit  is  won,  if 
this  is  allowed  to  go  on?" 

"Who  knows?"  queried  Alvara,  placidly.  "We 
may  be  in  our  graves,  senor,  and  not  here  to  see  it. 
When  Eduardo  wants  foundation  for  an  adobe,  he 
blows  down  a  stone  wall;  when  he  wants  walls  for  a 
well,  he  blows  down  the  arches  of  the  patio,  until  bricks 
enough  fall.  It  is  quicker  than  to  burn  new  ones." 

"But  the  padre?" 

"There  is  the  man  who  is  padre  of  San  Juan 
Capistrano  in  these  days,"  said  Juan  Alvara,  briefly. 

A  man  was  coming  up  the  middle  of  the  road,  his 
boots  wet  and  muddy  from  irrigating-ditches,  a  short 
black  pipe  between  his  teeth.  He  halted  to  chaffer 
with  an  Indian  woman  who  carried  a  basket  of  fish 
from  the  sea. 

Contemptuously  viewing  the  modest  sea  bass,  he 
said:  "Fish  only  a  foot  long — what  good  are  they? 
Who  is  fool  enough  to  buy  such?" 

"It  is  not  to  sell,  father.  Tia  Concepcion,  who  is 
much  sick,  ask  for  these;  they  are  to  give,  for  she  is 
sick." 

"Humph!  a  sick  woman  to  eat  ten  fish!  They 
will  be  sending  for  me  in  the  middle  of  the  night  for 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

prayers.  You  go  to  my  cook,  and  leave  seven  of 
these  with  him  in  the  kitchen  for  my  supper." 

The  Indian  lowered  her  head  and  passed  on  to  the 
Mission.  The  padre  crossed  the  plaza  to  where  the 
group  of  girls  stood  chatting  at  the  open  gate  of  a 
patio.  At  his  approach  they  fell  silent,  but  a  few  brief 
words  scattered  them  quickly  toward  their  several 
homes,  and  the  man  of  the  church  tramped  on,  the 
dust  of  the  road  sticking  to  his  wet  boots. 

"All  what  brings  a  price  and  is  overlooked  by  the 
Englishmen,  this  padre  will  dig  up,"  said  Juan 
Alvara.  "  He  is  getting  rich  from  many  fields." 

"Many  fields?" 

"Many  fields — the  church,  the  little  ranch  he  has 
picked  up,  and  the  game  of  monte  or  malilla.  He  is 
the  new  sort  of  priest  they  send  these  days  from 
Catalonia.  No  one  in  San  Juan  confesses  now  until 
Padre  Sanchez  comes  past.  If  the  church  wins,  the 
Mission  will  be  blown  down  all  the  same,  so  long 
while  some  one  pay  four  bits  a  load  for  brick.  All  is 
much  changed.  Father  Sanchez  is  another  kind — a 
holy  man  and  of  God." 

Alvara  lifted  his  sombrero  reverently. 

"The  vaqueros  coming  with  the  band  of  horses 
from  the  beach  soon,"  he  observed.  "We  will  go  to 
the  corrals,  and  help  you  to  forget  the  girl — no?" 


f 

FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"I'm  not  so  anxious  to  forget,  I  reckon — the  girl 
is  only  a  sort  of  dream  girl.  This  trip  was  not  so 
much  to  forget  a  girl  as  to — you  remember  Teddy, 
my  half-brother?" 

"Don  Teddy?  Sure — he  was  the  life  of  the 
valley  when  he  came  to  San  Juan." 

"Yes.  Well,  Teddy's  married;  he  has  married  the 
woman  who,  you  said,  had  the  face  of  some  angel." 

"Not  Angela,  the  seftora  who  is  Don  Eduardo's 
English  cousin?" 

The  other  nodded  his  head  grimly. 

"But — "  the  old  man  stared  at  him  sharply,  and 
then  suddenly  recovered  himself. 

"Teddy  says  his  wife  wants  to  come  down  here 
while  he  is  in  Mexico,"  grunted  Bryton.  "What  the 
devil  can  I  do  with  her  if  she  comes  now?" 

"You  are  a  relative  now — is  it  not  so?"  asked 
the  old  man,  with  an  affectionate  smile.  "She  is  your 
sister." 

"Sister  be — "  If  he  meant  blessed,  he  did  not  look 
it  as  he  tramped  the  veranda.  "I  start  just  the 
same  for  the  south  ranch  to-morrow.  If  she  comes, 
she  can  go  to  Mac's  tavern,  or  to  the  Mission  with 
the  ghosts!" 

"That  would  not  be  good  to  do,"  said  Alvara 
seriously.  "The  wife  of  your  brother  must  come 

[31] 


to  my  house.  Teresa,  the  widow  of  Miguel,  is  here; 
her  English  is  not  anything,  but  it  is  good  that  your 
sister  have  a  lady  with  her  in  the  house.  Teresa,  she 
feel  very  bad.  Don  Teddy's  wife  was  once  a  widow; 
she  will  understand." 

"Will  it  make  many  changes  in  the  business — his 
death?"  asked  Bryton. 

"It  will  lose  the  ranches  more  quickly  to  the 
English  and  the  Americans,"  stated  the  older  man. 
"Rafael  will  have  all  the  money  now,  and — it  is  good 
that  he  gets  married  quick.  The  girl — she  is  Este- 
van's  daughter — she  likes  no  English — so  they  say." 

"Oh! — Estevan's  daughter — Estevan's!  I  heard  a 
queer  story  of  that  name  once — a  queer  story!" 

"He  left  when  the  Americanos  came  to  California. 
Always  he  fought  against  the  Americanos.  He  was  a 
strong  soldier,  and  he  die  there  in  Mexico,  and  all  his 
money  is  for  the  girl  if  she  marry;  for  the  convent  if 
she  not  marry  at  all." 

"It  was  another  Estevan,"  said  Keith.     "It  was  a 
story  of  an  old  Aztec  temple  that  would  make  your 
hair  curl! 
Estevan." 

"There  may  be  the  same  name 
Felipe  Estevan  had  no  brothers." 

Keith  rolled  a  cigarro,  and  did  not  notice  that  the 

[3*] 


Might  have  been  a  relation  of  your  soldier 

in    Mexico,   but 


DONA  ANGELA 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

old  man's  hand  trembled  as  he  did  the  same,  and  that 
his  eyes  were  striving  in  vain  to  appear  careless. 

"My  Spanish  was  pretty  queer  those  days,  and  I 
did  not  grasp  the  details  of  the  story.  You  find  all 
sorts  of  half-buried  towns  and  temples  and  palaces  in 
the  country — queer  places  no  one  on  earth  can  tell 
who  built.  But  the  temple  was  a  plain  fact.  Stone 
work  cut  for  all  the  world  like  that,"  he  added, 
pointing  to  the  gray  Mission  ruin.  "Zig-zags  on 
the  cornices  and  Aztec  suns  just  the  same  over  the 
portals.  There  were  great  old  walls  left,  but  no  roof. 
Trees  grew  all  through  it,  and  right  in  the  open 
was  something  like  a  bench  covered  with  queer 
Indian  figures  of  fight,  and  sacrifices,  and  the  only 
one  I  ever  saw  down  there  carved  out  of  marble." 

"Yes — a  bench  of  marble!"  Alvara  was  listening 
intently,  nodding  his  head,  and  forgetting  to  smoke. 

"Well,  an  old  miner  down  there  told  me  a  lurid 
story  of  the  last  Indian  sacrifice  offered  up  on  that 
altar.  He  found  the  body  and  helped  to  bury  it — 
the  name  was  Estevan." 

"It  is  a  good  name,"  said  the  old  man. 

"Fine!  but  wherever  he  had  lived  he  was  used  to  a 
different  sort  of  woman  from  the  one  he  met  at  the 
old  temple.  She  was  of  pure  Spanish  and  Aztec  stock. 
The  women  m  those  temples  don't  usually  appear  to 

[33] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

count,  but  she  came  of  a  long  line  of  Aztec  priests. 
After  the  Catholic  Church  got  hold  of  them,  they 
became  Catholic  priests  instead  of  Aztec  ones,  and 
served  the  same  God  under  a  different  name." 

"So?"  remarked  Alvara. 

"It  seems  Estevan  drifted  into  the  country  with  con 
siderable  money — cattle-man,  I  think;  anyway,  he  had  a 
ranch  of  some  sort — and  fell  dead  in  love  with  the  sister 
of  one  of  these  hereditary  priests,  and  they  were  married. 
The  old  miner  said  a  lot  of  queer  old  Indians  gathered 
from  the  Lord  only  knew  where,  and  had  a  great  bon 
fire  and  crazy  dances  and  ceremonies  at  the  temple  the 
night  she  was  married.  They  were  waiting  for  a  new 
priest  of  their  own  old  religion  to  be  born  some  day 
and  every  marriage  in  that  family  was  of  interest." 

"Well?" 

"Well — I  don't  know  how  to  make  clear  that  there 
are  wives  in  the  world  to  whom  brown  girls  in  the 
willows  are — well — they  are  absolutely  taboo  to  the 
husbands — understand?" 

Alvara  nodded  silently. 

"This  Estevan  was  not  used  to  women  like  that. 
He  was  crazy  over  the  priest's  sister  till  he  got  her,  and 
then  he  was  like  many  other  men — he  went  back  to 
the  brown  girls." 

"And  then?" 

[34] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Then  that  old  Aztec  tribe  seemed  to  hear  of  it  on 
the  wind — no  one  knows.  A  brown  girl  was  caught 
by  the  Indians  one  night,  her  long  hair  cut  short  to  her 
head;  and  the  next  day  Estevan  was  found  tied  on  that 
altar  with  the  same  hair  plaited  into  ropes.  The  heart 
had  been  cut  from  the  body  and  rested  in  a  little  urn  or 
vase  carved  in  the  stone  of  the  wall.  There  were  no 
other  mutilations  or  signs  of  cruelty — it  was  more  like  a 
pagan  ceremony  than  anything  else.  The  girl's  hair 
was  the  only  clue  as  to  what  the  cause  might  have  been." 

"And  the  wife  and  the  child — what  did  the  man 
tell  you  of  them?" 

"Child?"  Keith  stared  at  the  old  man.  "I  did  not 
mention  a  child;  never  heard  there  was  one.  The 
widow  of  Estevan  entered  a  convent  and  was  never 
heard  of  again.  The  old  miner  said  the  priest  took 
charge  of  the  property — for  the  Church,  he  supposed! 
I  think  of  that  old  temple  every  time  I  see  the  cactus 
and  Aztec  sun  cut  in  this  gray-green  stone  of  your 
church  here;  but  I  had  forgotten  the  name  of  Estevan 
until  you  mentioned  it." 

"It  is  a  good  name,"  added  Alvara  again.  "Felipe 
Estevan  was  wild  and  a  fighter,  but  he  was  not  a  bad 
man  in  California.  He  had  no  wife,  and  the  girls  all 
wore  beads  he  bought — but  why  not?  He  knew 
we  have  only  one  life  to  live  here!" 

[35] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

"True,  senor;  and  the  story  of  the  tragedy  made 
me  forget  poor  Teddy's  comedy — one  I  can't  laugh 
at  yet." 

"Some  day  you  ask  us  to  a  wedding,  and  you  will 
forget  that  marriage  is  a  madness,"  said  Alvara. 

And  then  Dona  Teresa  came  slowly  out  on  the 
veranda  in  her  many  folds  of  black.  There  was  a 
hard  glitter  in  her  little  black  eyes,  but  her  lips  curved 
ever  so  slightly  in  a  courteous  greeting  as  Keith 
Bryton  bent  over  her  hand. 

"I  hear  how  you  telling  that  story,  senor,"  she 
remarked,  pleasantly.  "You  think  that  it  is  good  to 
tie  a  gentleman  on  a  bench,  and  put  his  heart  on  a 
shelf— no?" 

"Good?  Why,  it  was  the  most  ghastly  heathenish 
thing  I  ever  heard  of.  But — " 

"  But  you  Americanos  think  most  of  the  women  who 
do  such  things,"  she  persisted;  "you  think  it  better 
than  to  let  him  live  where  there  are  the  brown  girls." 

"Oh— senora?" 

He  saw  that  he  had  irrevocably  damned  himself  in 
her  eyes.  She  might  speak  to  him  courteously  through 
a  long  lifetime,  but  one  of  the  institutions  of  their 
pastoral  life — an  institution  ignored  by  the  usual  guest 
in  the  land — had  been  referred  to  in  a  sarcastic  manner, 
and  he  knew  that  never  again  could  he  expect  the  good 

[36] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

will  of  Teresa  Arteaga.  The  allusion  had  been  the 
most  distant,  the  most  unintentional,  but  at  the  first 
word  the  blood  of  the  Mexican  was  arrayed  against 
the  Gringo. 

"You  think  it  well  when  that  wife  put  the  knife  in 
the  heart  of  the  husband?"  she  continued.  "(Yes, 
Aguada,  I  will  have  a  cup  of  orange  juice,  and  you 
may  bring  wine  for  the  gentlemen.)  You  think  your 
American  ladies  do  that  same  thing — no?" 

"Oh — the  old  miner  never  suggested  that  it  was 
the  woman  did  it — the  wife!"  he  protested.  "It  was 
thought  to  be  the  work  of  the  old  hill  tribe  of  In 
dians." 

"It  was  not  alone  the  Indians,"  stated  Dona  Teresa, 
with  sudden  insight.  "Men  would  not  think  to  tie 
him  with  girl's  hair.  No,  it  was  the  wife." 

Alvara  looked  at  her  warningly  over  his  glass. 

"If  there  are  such  wives  in  Mexico,  we  hope  they 
stay  there,"  he  said.  "Our  own  Indians  make  trouble 
enough  for  the  padre  and  the  alcalde.  The  kind  you 
tell  of  are  best  left  with  their  tribes  in  the  hills." 

For  a  little  longer  they  talked  of  the  new  horses 
needed  for  the  frontier  warfare,  and  touched  upon  the 
chance  of  the  Capitan's  stealing  them  before  they  got 
across  the  divide. 

"But  there  is  no  danger  even  of  El  Capitan  now, 

ML 

//<o7  7  5 


FOR 

THE 

SO  U  L 

OF 

RAFAEL 

when  the  Senor  Don  Bryton  have  put  himself  to  help 
guard,"  remarked  Teresa,  eyeing  him  with  a  cat-like 
glance  to  discover  if  her  sarcasm  was  appreciated. 
"We  all  feel  very  safe  now  in  San  Juan  valley." 

"With  those  brilliant  army  officers  in  town,  you 
certainly  should,"  he  remarked,  easily.  "The  women 
have  always  been  the  Capitan's  best  friends,  and  the 
officers  are  cutting  him  out!" 

"He  see  too  much — and  he  talk  too  much,"  said 
Teresa,  as  Bryton  left  them  and  walked  leisurely  down 
the  road  toward  the  inn  and  post-office. 

"He  means  no  harm,"  remarked  Alvara.  "The 
ways  of  the  Americano  are  not  our  ways,  but  I  like 
him  better  than  the  army  men.  He  makes  no 
scandals." 

"If  the  army  men  make  love  to  the  girls,  they  keep 
quiet  about  it,"  returned  Teresa.  "  But  this  man- 
he  thinks  himself  too  good  for  the  'brown  girls'  he 
talks  of.  Men  who  are  too  good  should  go  to  stay 
in  the  church  and  pray  for  the  sinners!" 

Alvara  knew  that  no  remark  of  Bryton's  had  been 
meant  to  reflect  in  the  least  on  social  conditions  in 
San  Juan.  But  what  use  to  argue  with  an  angry, 
jealous  woman  hunting  for  a  grievance? 

The  widow  of  Miguel  had  gone  through  the  years 
of  jealous  bitterness,  the  shock  of  Miguel's  death,  the 

[38] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

knowledge  that  she  would  inherit  but  a  widow's  share, 
the  nerve-wrenching  strain  of  a  Mexican  funeral,  the 
sight  of  her  husband's  Indian  children  beside  the 
bier;  but  that  had  all  been  in  the  midst  of  the  people 
who  understood — where  house-servants  were  often 
legacies  to  the  estate  from  brother,  or  uncle,  or  cousin. 
But  this  man,  who  told  of  a  wife  that  revenged  herself, 
had  unconsciously  flung  in  her  face  a  new  standard;  she 
hated  him,  and  hated  the  sort  of  women  he  knew  in 
his  own  country, — the  white-faced  women  who  had 
snow  in  their  blood  and  did  not  understand! 

Bryton  tried  in  vain  to  think  what  he  had  said  to 
annoy  Teresa  so  exceedingly;  could  it  have  been 
his  inquiring  as  to  the  estate?  Surely,  she  must  know 
that  many  persons  were  asking  the  same  questions. 
Her  brother-in-law,  Rafael  Arteaga,  was  such  an 
uncertain  quantity  that  wagers  were  plentiful  as  to  his 
management  of  the  several  ranches.  If  he  left  them 
as  Miguel  had  done,  principally  to  the  lawyers,  it 
might  not  be  so  bad,  but  Rafael's  disposition  to  make 
his  own  bargains  made  older  people  shake  their  heads. 
His  mother,  Dona  Luisa,  was  old  and  ill.  He  could 
have  time  to  make  very  bad  bargains  before  she  could 
make  the  journey  from  Mexico;  and  even  then  would 
she  be  physically  able  to  take  note  of  business  details? 
All  those  questions  Bryton  had  heard  talked  over  and 

[39] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

over.  Also,  the  matter  of  the  wedding, — would  it  be 
postponed  because  of  the  funeral  ?  No  one  knew 
whether  Dona  Luisa  and  the  bride  were  not  on  the  way 
when  the  death  occurred.  Rafael  had,  it  was  under 
stood,  come  ahead  that  he  might  make  the  prepara 
tions  for  their  reception.  A  letter  had  also  arrived 
saying  that  all  things  must  be  put  in  order  at  the 
dwelling-rooms  of  the  Mission;  it  stated  that  the 
"donas" — the  bride  gifts — he  had  selected  in  Mexico 
might  arrive  any  day.  They  had  come  by  sea  to  San 
Pedro,  and  San  Juan  was  in  quite  a  flutter  of  excite 
ment  over  its  most  important  wedding  in  a  generation. 

The  alcalde  met  Bryton,  and  incidentally  mentioned 
that  it  was  a  pity  the  horse  deal  had  not  been  held 
over  for  the  week  of  the  wedding;  there  would  be  bar 
becues  and  horse  races  for  the  latter  part  of  the  week. 

"Sorry  I  can't  stay,"  observed  Bryton.  "I  'm  keep 
ing  tab  for  the  contractor  on  those  cavalry  horses,  and 
must  stay  with  the  bunch,  at  least  until  they  reach  Los 
Angeles.  Teddy  has  gone  down  into  Mexico;  if  he 
stays,  I  may  follow." 

"Now  that  one  of  you  boys  is  married,  you  should 
settle  down  and  be  a  permanent  citizen  of  some  dis 
trict, —  what  is  the  matter  with  this  place?" 

"It's  the  most  beautiful  valley  I  ever  saw,"  agreed 
Bryton.  "But  for  getting  Teddy  to  locate  sixty 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

miles  from  town — never!  And  as  to  the  lady  in  the 
case,  she  will  insist  always  on  an  audience  more — " 

What  more  it  would  have  to  be  was  interrupted  by 
the  clatter  of  the  stage  down  the  street,  and  on  the 
seat  beside  the  driver  was  a  little  woman  in  pale  blue 
flounces  thick  with  dust,  and  a  white  hat  with  pink  rose 
buds  dancing  and  swaying  with  the  rock  of  the  stage. 

"God — "  began  Bryton,  and  then  checked  himself. 

The  alcalde  smiled. 

"Mrs.  Ordway — or  Mrs.  Teddy  Bryton  now  — 
looks  pretty  well  satisfied  with  this  as  a  temporary 
audience,"  he  remarked,  as  he  sauntered  across  the 
street  to  his  own  abode.  Bryton's  exclamation  showed 
that  he  was  by  no  means  pleased  to  see  her,  and  the 
alcalde  did  not  care  to  witness  a  family  reunion  of 
that  sort,  so  he  walked  away  smiling. 

The  lady  waved  her  hand  and  flung  a  bright  smile 
toward  the  half-brother  of  her  husband.  He  lifted  his 
hat,  but  did  not  move  from  his  tracks  until  the  horses 
came  to  a  halt,  brought  suddenly  to  their  haunches  by 
the  driver,  who  was  making  a  showy  entrance  into  the 
village  for  the  gratification  of  the  lady. 

"I've  had  a  delightful  trip  from  Los  Angeles — 
thanks  to  Don  Rafael,"  she  called,  gaily.  "I  never — 
never  expect  to  drive  so  fast  again.  Come  and  help 
me  down!" 

[4'] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

But  the  slender,  handsome  Mexican  beside  her 
had  leaped  to  the  ground,  and,  sombrero  in  hand,  was 
ready  to  perform  that  service  before  the  American 
reached  the  stage. 

"You  are  always  the  day  after  the  fair,  Keith,"  she 
remarked,  her  eyes  narrowing  in  a  smile.  "I  am 
a  thousand  times  obliged  to  Senor  Arteaga!" 

"It  is  I  who  am  honored,  sefiora,"  he  returned  with 
a  sweep  of  the  sombrero,  and  one  brief  yet  steady 
look  into  her  eyes.  Mrs.  Bryton  turned  away  with 
a  pleased  little  smile,  and  proceeded  to  shake  the 
dust  from  the  ruffles  of  her  sleeve. 

Keith  Bryton  saw  both  the  look  and  the  smile,  and 
it  gave  a  tinge  of  coldness  to  his  greeting. 

"How  do  you  do,  Seflor  Arteaga?"  he  remarked. 
"Thank  you  for  looking  after  Mrs." — the  word 
seemed  hard  to  say — "Bryton.  Are  you  adding 
stage-driving  to  your  other  accomplishments?" 

Rafael  Arteaga  had  caused  too  much  jealousy  in  his 
day  not  to  suspect  he  recognized  it  in  the  attitude 
of  the  American,  whom  it  was  something  of  a  victory 
to  outrival. 

"Only  when  there  is  extra  precious  cargo  on  board," 
he  said,  meaningly.  "American  ladies  are  rare  in  San 
Juan.  I  was  the  only  one  present  to  show  our  appre 
ciation  of  such  a  visit." 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"But  I  am  not  an  American — never  in  this  world!" 
she  insisted.  "It  was  only  the  accident  of  marriage 
took  me  to  your  Mexican  America.  I  was  born 
in  London>  and  am  a  subject  of  the  Queen!  Don't 
ever  fancy  me  an  American!" 

"Few  people  will  make  that  mistake,"  said  Bryton, 
dryly.  "I  suppose  you  know  that  your  cousin  and 
his  wife  are  not  here?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  discovered  that  through  Senor  Arteaga 
when  I  was  part  way  down.  But  he  tells  me  the  army 
men  are  here,  and  that  there  are  always  dances,  horse 
races,  and  a  general  festival  while  they  stay.  I  thought 
it  might  be  worth  while.  Sefior  Arteaga  will  look 
after  me  if  you  are  too  busy." 

"With  many  thanks  for  the  honor,  senora." 

"The  barbecues  are  over,"  said  Bryton;  "they 
were  rather  subdued  this  time,  because  of  the  funeral 
of  Don  Rafael's  brother.  I  leave  with  the  army  men 
to-morrow  for  a  trip  farther  north,  and  you  had 
best  return  to  Los  Angeles,  or  go  to  your  cousin  in 
San  Diego." 

She  pretended  to  busy  herself  concerning  a  bandbox 
on  which  the  cord  had  broken,  but  her  little  white 
teeth  bit  into  her  lip.  Rafael  had  entered  the  post- 
office  with  the  driver  of  the  stage. 

"I  am  not  interested  in  San  Diego,"  she  observed. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"There  must  be  somewhere  in  this  row  of  adobes  a 
place  where  a  lady  could  stay." 

"There  is  the  tavern  kept  by  Mac.  You  may  be 
able  to  retain  a  room  there  alone,  if  no  other  women 
stop  over." 

"Share  a  room  with  strangers?  But  Don  Rafael 
offered—" 

"Don  Rafael  has  only  several  adobes  here,  where 
the  vaqueros  eat  and  sleep —  neither  he  nor  his  brother 
has  lived  here  as  a  regular  thing;  when  they  do, 
they  share  the  house  of  the  major-domo,  who  has 
an  Indian  wife.  The  only  privacy  Don  Rafael  could 
assure  you  of  would  be  to  give  you  the  key  of  the 
Mission." 

"That  graveyard!  I  must  say  you  arc  not  very 
brotherly,  amigo — I  learned  some  more  words  of 
Spanish  on  the  way  down!  Well,  if  I  must  go  to 
the  awful  tavern,  I  must!  Do  you  suppose  that 
villanous-looking  black-and-tan  in  the  scrape  will 
carry  my  boxes  into  the  hotel  ?  You  Ve  not  said 
one  civil  word,  Keith!  Are  Teddy  and  I  to  do 
the  best  we  can  without  your  blessing?"  she  asked, 
mockingly. 

He  looked  at  her  slowly  from  head  to  foot,  and 
back  to  her  innocent  wide-open  blue  eyes. 

"I  congratulate  you,"  he  said,  briefly.     "I  will  see 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

that  your  belongings  are  taken  to  your  room.  The 
gentleman  in  the  scrape  chances  to  be  a  Mexican 
Don,  not  accustomed  to  carting  bandboxes." 

"You  are  not  very  cordial  in  your  congratulations," 
she  observed,  as  if  determined  to  break  down  his  cold 
unconcern, — to  make  him  say  something. 

"No,  I'm  not,"  he  agreed,  tersely.  "If  Teddy 
had  given  me  any  idea  of  it,  you  know  he  would  not 
have  been  a  married  man  now." 

"Oh,  I  knew  you  would  be  jealous,  no  matter  whom 
he  married,"  she  replied;  "I  told  him  so!" 

"  So  I  supposed.  But  if  you  want  to  secure  a  room 
alone,  you  'd  better  not  delay.  Apartments  are  rather 
at  a  premium  in  San  Juan." 

He  walked  with  her  past  the  admiring  group  of 
prominent  citizens  toward  the  patio  of  the  inn. 
Several  of  the  men  swept  sombreros  to  the  earth 
as  she  passed.  The  cousin  of  Don  Eduardo  was  a 
lady  they  must  show  special  deference  to,  even  if 
she  had  been  ugly,  which  she  certainly  was  not. 

Most  of  them  envied  the  tall,  rather  good-looking 
fellow  swinging  along  by  her  side,  but  he  did  not  seem 
as  happy  in  the  privilege  as  others  would  have  been. 
Alvara,  seeing  himself  forgotten  for  Don  Eduardo's 
pretty  blonde  cousin,  smiled  a  little,  and  continued  his 
walk  alone  to  the  corral. 

[45] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"She  make  him  forget, — but  she  is  not  the  woman," 
he  said,  shrewdly. 

Mrs.  Bryton  surveyed  the  coarse  furnishings  of  the 
adobe  with  disgust  as  she  was  led  to  the  one  room 
where  she  could  secure  sleeping  accommodation.  It 
contained  three  beds  with  as  many  different-colored 
spreads,  queer  little  pillows,  and  drawn-work  on  one 
towel  hanging  on  a  nail.  The  floor  had  once  been  tiled 
with  square  Mission  bricks;  but  many  were  broken, 
some  were  gone,  and  the  empty  spaces  were  so  many 
traps  for  unwary  feet.  Names  of  former  occupants 
were  scratched  in  the  whitewashed  wall.  There  was  no 
window,  and  but  one  door  opening  on  the  patio  and 
to  be  fastened  from  within  by  a  wooden  bar. 

"But  this — there  must  be  something  better  than 
this!"  she  exclaimed. 

"It  is  the  one  home  where  you  could  make  your 
self  understood.  The  proprietor  chances  to  speak 
English.  If  you  come  without  notifying  your — 
relatives,  you  must  take  what  you  find,  or  go  on  to 
San  Diego.  Your  cousin  is  there  —  also  his  wife." 

She  shrugged  her  shoulders,  and  dropped  wearily 
to  a  wooden  bench. 

"I  can't  ride  another  mile — I'm  dead  tired.  But 
you  don't  ask  why  I  came!" 

"That   is   your   husband's  affair,    not    mine/'    he 

[46] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

returned.  "If  there  is  nothing  else  I  can  do  for  you, 
I  will  go  and  look  after  my  own  affairs.  I  start  south 
in  the  morning." 

"Because  I  came?"  she  demanded,  with  a  slight 
smile.  At  sight  of  it  his  face  flushed,  and  then  the 
color  receded  while  he  regarded  her  steadily. 

"Don't  make  any  mistake  about  that,"  he  sug 
gested.  "I  did  leave  town  out  of  impatience  with 
another  friend  of  mine,  who  was  wasting  his  time 
with  you.  Of  course  he  would  not  listen  to  me, 
and  he  has  evidently  told  you.  I  liked  him,  and 
did  not  want  to  see  him  made  a  fool  of." 

"Oh,  you  are  a  silly!"  she  replied,  unfastening 
her  hat-string  and  glancing  at  him  strangely.  "It 
never  was  that  man  for  one  little  minute;  you,  of  all 
the  men,  ought  to  know." 

"  I,  of  all  the  men,  have  been  the  one  who  did  not 
guess  that  it  was  Teddy,"  he  retorted.  "But  since 
it  is,  there  is  one  thing  to  remember, —  Teddy  is  the 
best  fellow  in  the  world,  and  the  easiest  mark,  and 
you  are  not  to  forget  it!" 

"I  did  not  promise  to  honor  and  obey  you!"  she 
retorted,  petulantly. 

"But  if  you  don't  in  this  case — "  he  halted  abruptly 
and  walked  away.  Her  high,  sweet  voice  called  after 
him,  but  he  did  not  turn  his  head.  He  evidently 

[47] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

realized  that  he  had  come  very  near  threatening  her; 
and,  after  all,  if  Teddy  chose  to  make  a  fool  of  himself 
for  a  pretty  doll  — 

For  she  was  undeniably  pretty,  and  she  had  created 
quite  a  flurry  a  year  before  when  she  reached  San 
Pedro  by  steamer  from  Mexico,  a  girlish  widow  with 
one  child,  and  waited  there  until  the  English  cousin 
of  her  husband,  Eduardo  Downing,  had  been  notified 
and  came  up  in  state  from  his  ranches,  with  his  Mexi 
can  wife,  to  receive  her. 

One  child  more  or  less  never  made  any  difference 
on  the  ranch  of  Eduardo,  and  his  wife  rather  liked  the 
little  white  doll  that  was  alive,  for  her  own  brown- 
skinned  grandchildren  to  play  with.  It  was  better 
than  an  Indian  baby — more  of  a  novelty,  so  that  the 
family  affairs  of  the  young  widow  were  easily  adjusted. 
She  accepted  invitations  to  visit  friends  of  her  cousin 
on  ranches  and  in  town.  For  a  year  she  had  earned 
the  reputation  of  being  a  rather  gay  flirt,  and  she  could 
have  married  several  times.  Keith  Bryton's  friends 
had  more  than  hinted  that  she  was  waiting  for  him, 
and  when  the  word  went  abroad  that  it  was  his  half- 
brother,  eyes  were  opened  wide  in  Los  Angeles. 
There  were  lifted  brows,  and  smiles.  Keith  knew 
how  the  marriage  would  be  commented  upon,  and  he 
was  filled  with  rage  that  she  should  assume  at  once 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

her  care-free  attitude,  and  fraternize  with  Rafael 
Arteaga,  as  she  evidently  had  done  on  the  ride  down. 
And  Teddy  trusted  her  absolutely — good  old  Teddy, 
who  had  been  infatuated  from  the  first  sight  of  her,  and 
had  loved  without  hope  until  lately,  very  lately  indeed  ! 

They  had  been  married  on  the  eve  of  his  trip  to 
Mexico.  His  letter,  written  that  night,  and  given  her 
to  mail,  had  been  held  back  by  the  bride  until  she  was 
ready  to  follow  it  on  the  next  stage.  What  mad  idea 
had  she  in  thus  coming  to  the  last  village  likely  to 
be  attractive  to  her?  Was  it  to  enjoy  her  victory? 
— to  show  him  that  his  years  of  devotion  to  Teddy 
went  for  nothing  when  she  chose  to  turn  the  light 
of  her  countenance  his  way? 

Something  like  that  it  must  have  been, — the  freakish 
defiance  of  a  spoiled  child.  Not  innocent,  despite  the 
big  baby-blue  eyes,  but  too  ignorant  of  social  conditions 
in  this  Mexican  town  for  him  to  leave  her  to  the  guar 
dianship  of  Rafael  Arteaga  when  he  should  ride  away 
to-morrow.  The  only  American  men  in  the  place  were 
unmarried.  For  Teddy's  sake  he  must  see  that  she 
went  too.  For  Teddy's  sake —  that  was  the  devil  of  it! 

Rafael  was  lounging  in  the  door  of  the  post-office 
smoking,  when  Bryton  emerged  from  the  patio. 
There  was  a  smile  in  his  eyes  as  he  noted  the  annoyed 
face  of  the  American. 

[49] 


wm 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"I  was  waiting  for  you,  amigo,"  he  said,  walking 
beside  him.  "I  have  no  wish  to  object  to  the  hotel 
of  our  friend  Mac;  but  I  believe  it  may  be  possible 
to  secure  a  better  place  for  senora,  your  sister. 
The  widow  of  my  brother  is  still  here,  Mac  has  just 
told  me.  I  can  turn  over  to  them  a  house  of  plenty 
of  room  to-morrow." 

"Many  thanks  to  you,  Don  Rafael;  but  the  lady 
will  probably  remain  only  until  the  next  stage  passes. 
It  will  not  be  necessary  to  inconvenience  any  of  your 
people." 

He  nodded  good-naturedly  and  left  Rafael  at  the 
gate  of  Alvara.  Teresa  was  yet  on  the  veranda,  in 
terested  in  the  one  event  of  the  day,  the  arrival  of 
the  stage,  and  the  lady  who  was  its  most  noticeable 
passenger.  Alvara  did  not  think  it  could  have  been 
Don  Eduardo's  cousin,  for  if  so,  surely  Senor  Bryton 
would  have  brought  her  at  once  to  the  Alvara  home. 
Teresa,  on  the  other  hand,  insisted  that  it  was  the 
English  cousin ;  she  had  seen  her  once,  and  was  sure 
that  no  other  white  woman  would  look  so  much  like 
a  white  doll. 

They  at  once  appealed  to  Rafael  to  settle  the 
question.  Teresa  pushed  a  chair  toward  him  and 
suggested  a  glass  of  wine. 

"Thou   art  tired,  of  course,  and  choked  with  the 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

dust;  a  desert  wind  blew  to-day!  And  who  was  your 
pretty  seflorita?  Don  Juan  Alvara  and  I  could  not 
agree;  he  said  it  could  not  be  the  cousin  of  Don 
Eduardo,  or  she  would  certainly  have  accepted  the 
very  kind  invitation  he  gave  her  to  live  here  while 
waiting  for  her  relations." 

"Invitation?"  Rafael  looked  quickly  from  one  to 
the  other.  "  I  am  very  sure  Senora  Bry ton  failed  to  re 
ceive  your  invitation.  She  confessed  herself  in  despair 
if  her  cousin  should  not  be  here  on  her  arrival." 

"But  Senor  Bryton  was  told  to  bring  her  here." 

"Oh — h!"  He  was  silent  a  moment  and  then  he 
smiled  reassuringly.  "I  see  how  it  is!  He  thinks 
she  will  remain  over  only  one  day  and  does  not  like 
to  put  you  to  trouble;  but  the  poor  lady  down  there 
alone  is  no  doubt  very  uncomfortable — perhaps  un 
happy.  If  your  daughters  could  call  and  see  her — I 
would  accompany  them.  In  fact,  for  the  cousin  of  Don 
Eduardo  I  will  do  anything  I  may  be  allowed  to  do." 

"Sure,"  agreed  Alvara;  "it  is  the  right  thing  for 
a  lady  to  ask  her; — if  only  Dolores  and  Madalena 
have  not  ridden  to  the  beach — " 

He  went  into  the  house  to  see,  and  Teresa  looked 
at  Rafael  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Thou  hast  told  a  part,  but  not  all,  my  Rafael," 
she  said,  quietly.  "Is  the  so  good  Senor  Bryton  not 

[5'] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAE 


so  good  at  last?  Does  he  want  his  brother's  wife  to 
see  only  himself?" 

"You  don't  like  him?"  he  said,  quickly. 

"Well— if  not?" 

"Then  we  could  play  him  a  fine  trick — fine!  He 
is  jealous,  that  is  all.  She  rode  down  with  me,  and  of 
course,  when  I  learned  who  she  was,  we  talked — you 
saw!  Well,  our  Americano  likes  to  be  the  only  man. 
He  means  to  send  her  away  to-morrow,  —  he  is  so 
angry  because  she  marry  his  brother!  Of  course  she 
goes,  unless  we  keep  her.  It  would  be  a  good  trick 
to  play  if  we  could  walk  down  there,  and — " 

"We  will  go,"  decided  Teresa,  promptly;  "at 
once  we  will  go  before  he  comes  back  from  the  corral. 
His  brother's  wife — eh?  1  ask  myself  if  those  peo 
ple — the  Americanos — are  so  much  better  than  our 
own  men,  Rafael.  I  want  no  scandal  and  will  help 
you  with  none;  but  if  you  take  from  him  the  woman 
he  wants,  I  will  make  you  a  present — a  fine  one." 

"It  is  a  bargain!"  he  agreed.  "I  promise  to  earn 
the  gift.  He  is  a  good  enough  fellow,  but  much  too 
conceited;  we  will  cure  him!" 

As  Alvara  came  out  on  the  veranda  to  tell  them 
Dolores  and  Madalena  were  away,  and  to  ask  Teresa 
to  call  on  the  stranger  in  their  stead,  Teresa  and 
Rafael  were  on  the  street. 

[5*] 


an 

* 

IKr 


.FO^     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

"It  is  a  good  thing  to  do,"  he  thought,  contentedly 
rolling  a  cigarro  and  looking  after  them.  "It  is  a 
kindness  to  Don  Eduardo's  cousin,  and  it  is  good  for 
Teresa.  For  the  first  time  since  the  death  of  Miguel 
she  is  smiling.  Yes,  it  is  a  good  thing." 

When  Bryton  left  the  corrals,  the  evening  had 
come;  the  afterglow  was  flooding  the  hills  with  pale 
rose,  and  Indian  boys  were  driving  home  cows 
through  the  village  street.  The  more  time  he  had  to 
consider  the  matter,  the  more  impatient  he  grew  at 
the  reckless  disregard  of  his  new  sister-in-law  for  the 
conventionalities. 

Since  she  had  married  Teddy,  she  might  at  least 
have  remained  decently  and  quietly  where  he  had  left 
her.  Or  she  might  have  continued  her  journey  and 
joined  her  cousin  at  San  Diego;  but  to  do  so  mad  a 
thing  as  to  stop  off  here — he  determined  she  should 
go  either  north  or  south  to-morrow,  if  he  had  to  carry 
her  to  the  stage.  He  would  tell  her  so  at  once. 

He  had  arrived  at  that  determination  as  he  crossed 
the  plaza  and  heard  her  laugh  through  the  door  of 
Alvara's  house.  The  door  was  open;  she  was  try 
ing  to  teach  Alvara  English,  at  which  his  daughters 
laughed  very  much.  It  was  the  sharp  eyes  of  Teresa 
that  caught  sight  of  Bryton  first,  as  he  involuntarily 
halted  in  the  road. 

[53] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"Yes,  Seftor  Bryton,  it  is  all  true;  we  have  robbed 
the  Seftor  Mac's  hotel  of  your  sister!"  she  called  to 
him  with  a  new  air  of  elation, —  of  victory. 

Alvara  appeared  and  invited  him  to  supper,  which 
he  declined  for  a  previous  engagement  with  Don 
Antonio.  His  sister-in-law  came  out  and  listened  to 
his  excuses,  and  smiled  quietly  at  him  with  the  baby- 
blue  eyes,  in  which  he  read  a  certain  defiance. 

"I  would  have  smothered  in  that  awful  cell  you 
took  me  to!"  she  pouted.  "These  people  are  charm 
ing  to  me;  they  are  friends  of  Cousin  Edward's.  It 
was  Don  Rafael  took  them  to  me.  He  looks  like  a 
hero  in  a  picture-book!  How  does  it  come  I  never 
met  him  before?" 

"Perhaps  because  during  your  last  visit  down  here 
he  was  in  Mexico,  making  love  to  the  girl  he  is  to 
marry  very  soon." 

"Oh!  is  that  why  you  are  guarding  him  so  care 
fully?"  she  said,  laughingly.  "Well,  since  I  am 
married,  I  am  willing  to  stay  and  dance  at  his  wedding; 
but,  Keith,  if  I  had  seen  him  first — " 

She  broke  off,  laughing  at  the  quick  anger  in  his  eyes. 

And  Teresa,  listening,  understood  the  game  of 
Rafael  and  the  mocking  laughter,  and  the  anger  of 
Bryton,  and  was  as  happy  as  she  was  likely  to  be, 
with  Miguel  under  the  ground. 

[54] 


Danza  Mexlcana. 


CHAPTER    III 

ANY  things  had  happened,  and 
it  had  been  a  bad  day.  "A 
day  cursed  of  God!"  said  Pedro 
Gallardo,  the  driver;  and  against 
such  ill  fortune  the  carrriage  of 
Senora  Luisa  Arteaga  made  such 
progress  as  might  be,  from  San 
Luis  Rey  to  San  Juan. 

Clouds  had  drifted  along  the  mountains  each  night 
for  a  week,  and  never  the  ranges  a  bit  the  better  for 
it,  until  the  cavalcade  of  Dona  Luisa  had  started 
north  from  San  Diego;  and  then — well,  it  was  not 
what  you  would  call  a  rain,  it  was  a  torrent  came 
down.  The  skies  had  opened,  and  a  deluge  followed. 
Then,  after  leaving  San  Luis  Rey,  a  carriage-pole 
must  break  in  an  attempt  at  a  runaway,  and  two 
horses  were  lost  over  that,  to  say  nothing  of  the  off 
leader,  whose  "sire  had  been  the  devil,  and  whose 
dam  had  been  a  witch  thrice  accursed  in  the  foaling!" 

[55] 


r 


H 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

Their  joint  offspring  had  demonstrated  his  infernal 
lineage  by  breaking  his  own  leg  as  well  as  the  carriage- 
pole,  and  another  untamed  beast  had  to  be  roped  on 
the  range — hog-tied,  and  blindfolded  to  get  the  har 
ness  on  him;  and  because  of  him  Pedro's  throat  was 
fairly  blistered  with  curses. 

As  the  wheels  sank  into  the  sands  or  plunged  from 
one  ravine  into  another,  Dona  Luisa  prayed  and 
trusted  to  the  saints  that  she  might  see  her  own  valley 
again,  and  her  companion,  Dona  Jacoba,  protested,  and 
forgetting  to  pray,  waxed  argumentative. 

"Raquel  was  right,  Luisa,"  she  repeated  for  the 
twentieth  time  between  her  groans;  "we  had  been 
wise  to  wait  at  San  Diego  for  Rafael.  She  has  an  old 
head  on  her  shoulders — you  will  have  a  wise  daugh 
ter  when  the  day  comes.  " 

"Wise!  Yes  —  yes  !  "  moaned  Doiia  Luisa,  shaking 
her  head.  "  I  thank  the  Virgin  for  that,  every  day, 
for  Rafael  is  young,  Jacoba ;  a  baby  of  a  wife  would 
be  his  ruin.  Yet — a  baby  might  love  him!" 

"Our  boys  get  love  enough!"  grunted  Jacoba, 
thinking  of  her  own  sons,  and  her  own  troubles. 
"They  need  wives  with  sense;  and  our  girls  all  go 
wild  these  days  about  the  Americanos,  so  —  " 

"The  girls,  too!"  and  Doiia  Luisa's  tones  were 
strident  with  censure.  "It  is  bad  enough  when  men 

[56] 


•9* 


RAQUEL  ESTEVAN 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

must  buy  and  sell  with  the  Americanos  in  the  markets ; 
but  the  girls, — the  women  of  California, — it  is  in 
their  hands  to  shut  the  door  when  the  Americano 
knocks — is  it  not  so?" 

"Oh,  yes,  of  course  —  yes  —  it  is  as  you  say," 
agreed  Jacoba,  weakly,  as  she  thought  of  the  many 
girls  of  their  relationship,  who  had  opened  doors  very 
wide  indeed  for  the  Americanos,  and  of  not  a  few  who 
were  to  open  also  the  door  of  the  Church.  But  who 
could  tell  Dofia  Luisa  that  ? 

"  Rafael  is  all  I  have  left,  now  that  Miguel  is  killed," 
continued  the  mother.  "  My  only  grandchildren  are 
half-breeds,  and  only  Rafael  is  left.  Ai !  it  is  hard  to 
grow  old, —  to  let  go  all  lines.  But  you  know  what 
makes  me  happy,  Jacoba?  No?  It  is  this  one  big 
thing.  Raquel  will  be  what  I  was.  She  may  suffer, 
but  she  will  stand  square  on  her  feet ;  and  she  will  fight 
as  her  father  fought — and  it  will  be  for  California." 

"You  think  so?"  asked  Jacoba,  doubtfully.  "Jt 
may  be  so,  but — do  you  expect  strong  fights  from 
a  girl  who  was  half  a  nun?  I  say  she  knows  too  little 
of  the  world  to  fight  it." 

"You  take  from  me  my  one  hope  when  you  say 
that!"  and  the  older  woman  put  out  her  hand 
appealingly.  "Our  men  are  wild — always!  It  is  the 
women's  work  to  save  them.  The  death  of  Miguel 

[57] 


Hfe 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

is  making  me  think  much  and  quick.  Rafael  must 
be  marry.  There  must  be  no  more  Indio  women  and 
children." 

Jacoba  glanced  doubtfully  at  her  friend.  These 
five  years,  while  Rafael  had  been  learning  California 
ranch  life,  Jacoba  had  lived  near  enough  to  hear  much 
that  she  never  could  repeat  to  the  old  mother,  whose 
life  was  so  nearly  spent,  whose  weakness  and  preju 
dices  could  never  cope  with  the  new  life  in  the 
changed  land  —  and  of  what  use  to  torture  her  with 
the  truth?  She  wished  with  all  her  heart  the  exile 
had  elected  to  stop  over  at  San  Diego  or  San  Luis 
Rey,  until  some  little  glimmer  of  present  conditions 
should  enlighten  her. 

"It  is  well  the  donas  came  by  water,"  she  remarked, 
eager  to  find  some  straw  of  comfort  in  the  situation. 
"Even  extra  baggage  would  be  a  care,  with  these  roads 
and  troubles,  to  say  nothing  of  the  temptation  to  El 
Capitan!  Thanks  to  God,  he  never  yet  has  had 
record  of  troubling  women  on  the  road." 

"He  was  a  fine  boy,"  said  Dona  Luisa,  musingly. 
"It  is  not  his  fault  that  he  is  an  outlaw  to  these  States. 
It  means  only  that  he  is  patriot  to  California.  He 
was  a  fine  boy." 

"Ask  thy  son  how  fine  he  thinks  El  Capitan!" 
remarked  Jacoba.  "Rafael  has  paid  him  a  heavy  tax 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

in  his  best  stock.  They  have  long  ago  forgotten  they 
are  cousins." 

"Raquel  will  make  him  remember,"  said  the  older 
woman,  with  certainty.  "Did  he  not  fight  as  he  was 
able  beside  her  father?  Ai!  he  fought  for  California 
when  only  a  boy.  Do  Californians  forget?" 

"He  does  not  let  them  do  so,"  remarked  Jacoba 
dryly.  "Much  has  changed,  Luisa." 

"I  see  no  change,  only  the  Indios  more  poor. 
The  hills  are  green,  as  always  after  the  rains.  All 
these  ranges  are  the  same  like  we  rode  over  them  forty 
years  ago.  The  hills  and  the  sea  never  change,  only 
the  people.  It  is  good  to  hear  there  is  one  of  the 
young  left  who  thinks  in  the  old  way." 

"But  —  holy  Maria!  —  we  were  never  robbers, 
Luisa!" 

"Well,  we  did  not  need  to  be,"  returned  her 
friend.  "But  I  tell  you  truly,  Jacoba,  I  could  find 
it  in  my  heart  to  forgive  a  son  who  fought  the  Ameri 
canos  as  he  does,  even  if  they  made  him  outlaw.  He 
could  not  be  outlaw  to  the  Church,  nor  to  me." 

Jacoba  said  no  more.  Of  what  use  was  it  to  tell 
her  that  a  few  such  women  would  be  firebrands  in  the 
land  if  they  had  youth,  and  that  the  American  soldiers, 
instead  of  coming  peacefully  to  buy  stock  and  pay 
good  prices,  would  come  from  Los  Angeles  shooting, 

[59] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

—  would  come  with  torches  to  burn  each  town  where 
rebels  hid.  It  was  no  longer  little  internal  wars,  such 
as  they  used  to  have  in  the  days  they  both  remembered, 
when  the  men  who  smoked  or  played  together  one 
month  would  fight  under  different  leaders  the  next. 

There  were  no  faction  fights  now.  It  was  one 
great  ugly  pale  nation  to  the  east,  trailing  slowly  over 
the  ranges  and  planting  itself  like  the  live-oak  in  the 
canons.  The  Mexicans  might  hate,  might  curse;  but 
the  curses  made  no  difference  against  the  heretics. 
They  had  no  churches,  and  they  laughed  at  the  beau 
tiful  wooden  saints  in  the  old  chapel.  Had  not  some 
of  them  snuffed  out  candles  on  the  graves  with  their 
accursed  rifles,  last  All  Souls'  Day?  Yet  the  sky 
had  not  fallen,  and  no  earthquake  had  come!  What 
would  even  prayers  or  holy  Church  do  against  a  peo 
ple  so  ignored  by  God? 

But  Jacoba  knew  there  was  no  use  to  fight.  She 
remembered  what  that  meant  in  the  other  days.  In 
an  old  adobe  of  San  Juan's  one  street  she  had  helped 
as  a  girl  to  nurse  the  wounded  of  San  Pascual.  It 
was  years  ago,  but  she  had  not  forgotten  the  cruel 
wounds,  or  the  young  Americano  who  died  in  her 
arms  there.  She  had  never  mentioned  to  any 
the  reason  of  her  hatred  for  war;  for  even  with 
revenge  in  reach,  on  whom  would  she  seek  it? — 

[60] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

on  her  brother  who  had  killed  a  stranger  forcing  their 
gates? 

"You  do  not  forget  how  the  blessed  Junipero  Serra 
himself  spoke  from  the  altar  of  San  Juan  in  the  old 
days,  Luisa;  our  grandfather  telling  us  that  many 
times, — how,  when  the  Spanish  guard  was  hard  with 
the  Indies,  he  stood  on  the  altar  and  say  that  a  new 
people  will  come  and  put  the  foot  on  the  neck  of  the 
Mexican  like  the  Mexican  tramp  on  the  Indies. 
He  say  it,  and  cry — cry  for  the  reason  that  the  good 
God  no  can  make  their  hearts  more  soft  to  the  Indies. 
I  think  of  that  when  I  see  the  Americanos  come.  They 
not  put  the  foot  on  the  neck — but  they  are  here!" 

"Father  Junipero  was  old  then — very  old — like 
a  child,  and  would  make  of  the  Indies  babies  to  be 
petted,"  returned  Dona  Luisa,  leniently.  "He  was  a 
saint — not  a  man;  only  the  saints  could  have  the 
patience  with  those  Indies — I  remember!  One  of 
the  old  scares  of  the  padre's  was  that  the  water  would 
fail  us;  yet  San  Juan  still  has  its  river!" 

Jacoba  nodded.  They  were  likely  to  find  the  river 
a  difficulty  after  the  rainfall.  The  ford  was  not  a 
good  one  in  high  water;  but  the  thought  of  getting 
across  the  ford  was  a  trifle  compared  to  the  difficulty 
of  impressing  Dona  Luisa  with  any  idea  of  the 
change  she  would  find  in  the  land  she  had  known. 

[61] 


ffi 


^f> 
;v^y 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

In  sheer  despair  she  returned  once  more  to  a  safer 
subject,  Raquel  Estevan, —  Raquel  the  wise,  who  was 
to  marry  with  Rafael  and  forever  build  a  wall  about 
him  from  American  influence;  Raquel,  who  might  not 
love,  because  of  that  dark  shadow  of  the  cloister,  but 
who  would  be  all  the  more  wise  for  that!  Still,  who 
could  tell? 

"When  one  is  young  like  that,  one  never  can  be 
sure  until  the  right  man  comes,"  said  Jacoba;  "and 
she  is  handsome,  your  Raquel.  But  is  it  true  what 
they  say,  that  there  was  the  blood  of  the  old  Mexican 
Indies  in  her  mother?" 

Dona  Luisa  did  not  commit  herself;  yet  she  realized 
that  Raquel  Estevan  might  have  a  few  battles  to  fight 
along  the  line  of  race,  as  well  as  against  the  Ameri 
canos;  for  of  course  Rafael  was  a  favorite;  of  course 
there  would  be  burning  hearts  and  jealousy  at  first. 


1 


KEITH   BRYTON 


Esta  Noche 


Es  -  ta    no-che  voy  a   ver-  te, 


Al    o  -  tro  la  •  do  del   ri  -  o 


Te  en-car-go  que  estes  despierta  ay !     Pa  -  ra  quan-do  te  ha-ga  (sesilva) 


Ay !   Pa  -  lo  -  ma,  da  -  ca  el  pi  -  co   De  es  -  e     ri  -  co  man  -an  •  tial, 


Ay !  Pa  •  lo  -  ma,  da  •  ca  el  pi  -  co   De  es  •  e     ri  -  co  man  •  an  •  tial ! 


i — r 


CHAPTER    IV 


ROM  Las  Flores,  where  the  In 
dian  village  still  held  together  in 
a  shiftless  sort  of  way,  Raquel 
Estevan  and  her  friend  Ana 
Mendez  galloped  north  mile 
on  mile  over  the  mesa  above 
the  sea. 

Art  never  tired,  Raquel?"  demanded  the  older 
and  darker  of  the  two  as  they  halted  to  let  their  ani 
mals  drink  where  a  rivulet  ran  full  from  the  foothills. 
"  Since  we  left  the  ranch  house  thou  hast  never 
lessened  the  gallop." 

"  Tired  ?  I  should  shame  to  acknowledge  that, 
when  Dona  Luisa  never  rests  on  the  way.  She 
endures  it  all,  while  only  the  young  ones  complain. " 

"  Endures !  What  would  she  not  endure  for  her 
beloved  Rafael  —  now  your  beloved  Rafael?" 

Ana  was  not  malicious,  but  there  was  a  touch  of 
mockery  in  her  tone  and  questioning  glance. 

"  Why  should  he  not  be  beloved  ? "  asked  the  other, 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

smoothing  carefully  the  mane  of  her  horse  and  bend 
ing  low  to  conceal  the  slight  flush  of  cheek.  "Is  he 
not  handsome  and  good?" 

"It  is  not  easy  to  be  good  when  a  man  is  so  hand 
some,"  laughed  Ana;  "still,  I  will  take  your  word 
for  it !  But,  Raquel,  you  always  get  clear  of  the 
question;  not  once  have  you  said  that  you  find  him 
beloved.  Are  you  going  to  be  coquette  to  the 
wedding-day  ? " 

"  You  talk  to  amuse  yourself,"  and  the  violet  dark 
eyes  were  lifted  an  instant.  "You  learn  to  coquette 
when  you  marry,  and  cannot  forget ;  but  the  nuns 
never  teach  us  that." 

"What  need?"  and  Ana  showed  her  white  teeth  in 
a  laugh.  "  They  did  not  teach  us  we  must  breathe 
to  live ;  yet  some  way  we  learned  it !  But  confess ! 
You  outride  all  the  party  to  reach  San  Juan,  and 
Rafael;  yet  how  are  we  sure  what  urges  you?" 

"  My  promise." 

"  But  why  the  promise,  if  the  man  is  not  beloved? 
You  have  had  no  harsh  guardian,  as  I  had;  you  were 
all  free." 

"  Free  ?     Oh  yes,  I  had  always  the  choice  between 
some  husband  and  the  veil  of  a  nun.     And  then  — 
then   Dofla   Luisa  came  with    her  love  and  her  son, 
and  her  great  plans  of  good  work  I  could  do  out  in 


[66] 


W 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  world.  And  so  —  and  so  we  are  riding  to  meet 
him,  and  I  outride  you ! " 

"  I  never  hasten  to  trouble,"  remarked  Ana  Men- 
dez;  "and  if  we  should  meet  him  on  the  way,  you 
would  send  me  at  once  to  the  carriage.  I  should  put 
in  hours  listening  to  the  virtues  of  Rafael  Arteaga  and 
peril  my  soul  pretending  to  agree  with  his  mother." 

"Why  should  you  do  that?" 

"  Raquel,  do  you  really  see  how  little  the  ideas  of 
Don  Rafael  and  his  mother  agree?  I  know  little 
enough  —  thanks  to  California,  which  keeps  its  girls 
from  education ;  but  I  do  see  that  every  thought  of 
Rafael  Arteaga  is  for  the  new  ways,  the  ways  of  the 
Americano." 

The  younger  girl  drew  up  her  horse  with  a  cruel 
jerk,  and  faced  her  friend. 

"Anita,  beloved,"  she  said,  sadly,  "you  have  said 
the  thing  I  felt,  but  did  not  know.  Why  not  let  some 
less  dear  one  tell  me?" 

"Holy  Maria!  Who  else  would?  You  are  going 
among  strangers,  but  you  are  no  more  a  stranger  to 
the  California  of  to-day  than  is  Dona  Luisa.  I  hope 
all  the  time  some  one  tell  you  at  San  Diego,  or  at  San 
Luis  Rey,  but  no  one  does ;  and  Rafael  does  not  meet 
us;  and  — 

"The  letter  did  not  reach  him,  or  else  he  has  gone 

[67] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

by  boat,"  said  the  other,  steadily.  "Anita,  why  do 
you  sometimes  seem  not  quite  friendly  to  Rafael? 
Your  words — " 

"Never  think  it!  "cried  Ana.  "We  are  friends 
enough,  but — I  know  him  better  than  his  mother  — 
that  is  all !  He  has  turned  the  heads  of  many  girls, 
but  I  do  not  think  he  has  turned  yours,  Raquelita!" 

The  other  girl  made  no  reply. 

"  I  do  not  think  so,"  continued  her  friend,  "  be 
cause  you  have  never  once  lost  sight  of  duty,  —  the 
duty  Dona  Luisa  and  the  padre  have  taught  you  to 
see.  You  are  good,  Raquel,  —  when  you  are  not  in  a 
temper;  but  about  Rafael  you  do  not  think  your  own 
thoughts.  You  dream  of  the  life  of  your  father  and 
Dona  Luisa  when  all  this  land  was  theirs.  But  the 
dream  is  gone,  and  to-day  we  wake  up." 

"I  see  —  the  old  world  was  too  slow.  You  wake 
up  to  be  all  Americano  —  no?" 

"  Raquel,  do  you  hate  them  as  much  as  Doiia 
Luisa?" 

The  girl  from  Mexico  turned  her  face  toward  the 
sea,  and  did  not  answer  at  once.  Then  she  said : 

"  Only  once  in  my  life  have  I  spoken  with  an 
Americano,  and  I  did  not  hate  him." 

"A  young  man? " 

"  He  —  he  was  not  old,"  she  confessed. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"On  my  soul,  I  believe  you  have  had  a  lover!" 
cried  Ana.  "Oho!  you  can  play  Rafael  at  his  own 
game,  after  all!  Santa  Maria!  I  thought  you  were 
too  pretty  to  be  the  saint  they  think  you.  Tell  me!" 

"There  is  not  anything  to  tell,"  said  the  younger 
girl,  quietly,  though  the  color  crept  to  her  cheek;  and 
then  after  a  little  she  added,  "He  died.  I  never  saw 
him  but  once;  the  padre  said  I  was  wrong  to — to — 
oh,  they  said  things  to  me  about  heretics !  I  never 
knew  any  other,  and  I  promised  not  to.  But  if  he 
had  lived  I  should  not  have  promised;  that  is  all." 

"All!  Rafael  would  think  it  enough!  On  my 
soul,  I  am  glad  you  are  so  human — though  I  have  no 
love  myself  for  heretics!" 

"Human!"  mused  Raquel.  "Is  it  human  to  re 
member,  when  one  should  forget  and  cannot?" 

She  did  not  say  it  aloud,  and  refused  to  discuss  the 
matter  further. 

"He  is  dead,"  she  said;  "Rafael  cannot  be  jealous 
of  a  man  I  saw  but  once ;  it  was  only  the  dream  of  a 
girl — like  a  picture  in  a  book — and  the  page  is  closed. 
I  shall  marry  Rafael,  and  work  in  the  world  instead 
of  in  the  convent.  It  is  for  Mother  Church  and — it 
is  right ! " 

At  San  Onofre  the  surf  was  breaking  against  the 
cliffs.  It  was  high  tide,  and  the  beach  road  was  deep 

[69] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

enough  for  a  horse  to  swim.  Raquel  had  ridden  far 
ahead,  and  now  stood  on  the  brink  of  a  torrent  cut 
ting  its  way  down  from  the  hills  to  the  sea. 

The  girl  glanced  back  at  the  swaying  chariot-like 
carriage  on  a  far  hill,  and  wondered  what  would  be 
expected  of  their  broncos  in  this  crisis. 

The  animal  she  herself  rode  danced  and  fretted  with 
fright  at  the  roar  of  the  surf  and  the  dash  of  the  hill 
stream,  but  she  sat  the  saddle  with  ease,  answering 
to  every  curve  or  side  leap  as  lightly  as  a  gull  that 
floated  on  the  incoming  wave. 

Her  face  held  something  of  the  power  suggested  by 
her  strong  right  hand.  The  eyes  were  so  soft,  yet 
steady,  and  of  darkest  violet.  The  black  lashes  touch 
ing  her  cheeks  gave  them  tender  shadows,  and  the 
hair,  in  two  thick  braids  reaching  to  her  waist,  framed 
a  face  of  youthful  curves  and  charm.  But  what  was 
it  made  every  man,  and  many  women,  turn  to  look 
again  at  the  face  of  Raquel  Estevan? 

Many  girls  were  as  beautiful,  but  something  beyond 
the  beauty  of  feature  or  color  was  in  her  strange  half- 
Egyptian  face, —  a  certain  barbaric  note  held  in  check 
by  the  steady  eyes  and  the  mouth  firm  yet  tender.  It 
was  a  mouth  made  for  love;  yet  —  was  it  the  shadow 
of  the  dark  veil  she  had  so  nearly  worn?  Was  it  a 
hint  of  regret  for  the  cloistered  life  left  behind?  Or 

[70] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 


was  it  the  shadow  of  some  future  —  a  prophecy  of 
the  years  to  come  ? 

Ana  paused  at  the  edge  of  the  stream,  in  terror  at 
the  volume  of  water  barring  their  way  on  every  side. 

"Ai!  ai!  And  Aunt  Jacoba  but  a  moment  ago 
declaring  that  she  will  have  her  supper  in  the  refectory 
of  the  San  Juan  Mission.  Neither  Mission  nor  sup 
per  can  we  see  this  night — and  no  Rafael!" 

She  turned  dismayed  though  roguish  eyes  on  Raquel. 

"  He  did  not  expect  us  when  the  rains  came,"  said 
Raquel  with  quiet  certainty.  "  If  he  received  Dona 
Luisa's  letter,  he  has  gone  by  sea  to  San  Diego.  Did 
she  not  say  so,  Anita?  " 

"Oh,  he  can  do  much,  your  handsome  Rafael," 
agreed  Ana,  "but  he  cannot  yet  stop  the  tide,  or  dam 
La  Christienita !  Such  a  dry  bed  in  Summer !  and 
now  it  is  a  river." 

"But  not  deep?"  hazarded  Raquel.  "Not  so  deep 
as  the  carriage  bed." 

"Deep?  There  is  one  ford  that  is  safe  if  one 
knows  it;  but,  Holy  Maria?  on  each  side  are  pits  of 
a  depth  to  drown  us  all !  " 

"Oh,  if  there  is  a  good  ford  to  be  found  —  "  The 
rest  of  Raquel's  sentence  was  drowned  in  Ana's  shrieks 
of  protest,  as  her  horse  was  spurred  into  the  torrent 
in  search  of  the  roadway  safe  for  a  carriage. 

[71] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

Ana  was  right ;  there  were  pits,  and  there  were  great 
round  bowlders  on  the  edges  of  them.  The  horse 
stumbled  on  one,  recovered,  and  stumbled  again  where 
the  current  swung  into  a  whirlpool;  and  then,  as 
the  water  roaring  in  her  ears  almost  drowned  Ana's 
screams,  a  sharp  authoritative  voice  sounded  from  the 
bank  — 

"  Loose  the  stirrup !  " 

Raquel  did  so  mechanically,  just  as  a  rope  circled 
about  her  shoulders,  pinning  her  arms  to  her  sides, 
and  with  a  quick,  cruel  jerk  she  was  wrenched  from 
the  saddle;  and  as  her  horse,  relieved  of  her  weight, 
swam  straight  for  the  opposite  shore,  she  felt  herself 
caught  by  a  strong  arm  and  lifted  across  another  sad 
dle.  The  man  with  the  reata  had  caught  her  first, 
lest  she  be  dragged  downward  into  the  whirlpool,  but 
it  was  another  man  who  dashed  through  the  whirl  of 
waters  and  bore  her  to  the  shore,  where  half  a  dozen 
men  waited.  They  were  evidently  vaqueros;  one  of 
them  had  thrown  the  reata,  and  hastened  now  to  loosen 
it,  to  lift  her  from  her  rescuer  and  stand  her  on  her 
feet.  She  swayed  a  trifle,  and  reaching  blindly  for 
support,  she  caught  the  arm  of  a  man  beside  her, 
the  one  who  had  lifted  her  from  the  water.  Then  for 
the  first  time  she  noticed  that  he  wore  the  garb  of  a 
priest,  evidently  a  secular  priest,  for  he  wore  a  beard, 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  even  then  it  struck  her  as  strange  that  he  looked 
so  bronzed  and  rugged.  His  grasp  was  that  of  a  rider 
of  the  range,  rather  than  a  priest  of  the  Church. 

"  Father,  the  Virgin  have  you  in  her  keeping ! 
You  saved  my  life  then.  I  shall  always  —  always  —  " 

Then  she  could  no  longer  distinguish  priest  from 
vaquero;  the  earth  seemed  to  meet  the  sky,  and  be 
tween  them  she  was  extinguished. 

When  she  awoke  she  no  longer  could  hear  the 
screams  of  Ana,  and  the  red  rays  of  the  lowering 
sun  touched  the  face  of  the  priest  as  he  bent  over  her. 
It  had  more  of  youth  than  she  had  at  first  perceived. 

"Lie  you  still,"  he  said,  as  one  used  to  command. 
"The  water  was  rough  with  you,  and  the  reata  rougher. 
Swallow  some  of  this  wine ;  it  came  from  your  own 
carriage,  and  is  better  than  ours." 

"From  the  carriage?"  The  carriage  was  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  stream,  but  her  horse  had  fol 
lowed  her  and  was  tied  near,  shaking  himself  like  a 
great  dog. 

"Yes.  I  sent  one  of  the  boys  —  the  vaqueros  — 
across.  Your  friends  know  you  are  safe,  but  the  car 
riage  cannot  come  over — not  yet;  you  have  had  good 
fortune  to  get  out." 

"  The  good  fortune  was  to  find  you  here,  father,"  she 
said,  and  catching  his  hand  she  kissed  it  reverently. 

[73] 


g 


(^•5 

^K 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"It  is  a  good  omen  and  shows  me  a  blessing  is  on 
my  journey  to  my  father's  land.  You  may  have 
known  him  by  name.  I  am  Raquel  Estevan,  and 
it  was  my  father  Felipe  who  once  owned  this  land 
from  mountain  to  sea." 

"Felipe  Estevan  —  you!  But  that  cannot  be.  He 
is  dead,  and  his  one  child  is  in  religion  —  I  was  told 
so— I—" 

The  color  came  back  to  her  face,  and  she  raised 
herself  on  her  elbow. 

"It  is  true  —  I  was  for  the  Church  —  but  I  will  tell 
you  all  —  some  time!" 

"Go  on,"  said  the  priest,  authoritatively,  "tell  me 
now!" 

"I  was  told  it  was  better  to  work  for  God  out  in 
the  world,"  she  said,  softly,  "and  so  I  am  coming 
with  my  Aunt  Luisa,  father's  cousin,  and — " 

"And  — "  he  looked  at  her  strangely.  "Then  it 
is  you  —  you  they  bring  to  marry  with  Rafael  Arteaga. 
Holy  Mary!  And  it  is  Felipe's  daughter  —  Felipe 
Estevan — who  sold  for  a  song  rather  than  live  under 
the  Americanos;  and  it  is  for  his  daughter  I  wait  here 
by  San  Onofre  —  for  his  daughter!" 

Raquel  stared  at  his  evident  agitation,  not  under 
standing.  The  sentences  of  the  padre  sank  to  mut 
tering  beneath  the  black  beard,  as  he  turned  and  strode 

[74] 


2vv  <a  •  \xafl  •  & 

wVHilBuf 

y^. t •«"•  J:  I'  +1  m»  ". ItaS 


^-i^1 

«HR 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

away.  The  vaqueros,  standing  together  holding  their 
horses  as  if  eager  to  be  gone,  exchanged  wondering 
glances  and  eyed  the  girl  curiously.  Directly  he  came 
striding  back  and  halted  beside  her. 

"Yet  you  marry  with  Rafael  Arteaga,"  he  said,  ac 
cusingly.  "You  are  Felipe's  daughter,  yet  you  are 
much  Americano  —  eh  ?  You  are  of  the  States,  is  it 
not  so?  Between  you  two,  old  California  will  no 
longer  have  foot-room  from  San  Jacinto  to  the  water 
out  there.  God ! "  and  he  ground  his  heel  into  the 
turf.  "  Yet  are  you  Felipe's  daughter,  and  we  must 
let  you  go  !  " 

"No!"  she  cried  as  vehemently  as  he.  "I  go 
nowhere  from  the  rules  of  my  father  in  this  land. 
The  things  he  loved  I  love;  the  things  he  fought  for 
I  will  guard!  It  is  for  that,  father,  I  marry  with 
Rafael.  He  is  —  he  is  not  so  much  for  old  Califor 
nia,  I  know — I  hear!  His  mother  is  afraid;  she 
grieves  over  that  much!  But  the  two  of  us  —  the 
two  of  us,  with  your  prayers  to  help,  and  we  keep 
him  always  for  our  father's  country  —  always  till 
he  die  —  with  your  help!" 

"With  my  — help?" 

"Your  prayers,  father !  You  will  see  I  am  Felipe 
Estevan's  daughter,  even  while  I  am  born  in  Mexico. 
I  will  do  what  a  son  would  do  for  our  land  and  our 

[75] 


I 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Church.  You  will  see —  you  will  see!  It  is  a  bless 
ing  from  God  that  you  meet  me  here  like  this  at  the 
edge  of  the  land.  Always  I  have  thought  these 
thoughts  in  my  heart,  but  only  to  you  —  a  priest — 
could  I  say  them  in  words,  and  it  is  well  you  meet  me 
here  like  this.  Your  words  are  the  words  I  needed 
to  make  me  see  what  I  want  to  do.  It  is  like  a  bap 
tism  that  I  went  under  that  water  a  girl,  and  your 
hand  lift  me  out  a  woman !  The  Virgin  sent  me  here 
this  day  that  I  meet  you.  You  have  opened  the  gate 
of  the  land  for  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter." 

He  leaned  against  the  trunk  of  a  young  live-oak 
and  stared  at  her  with  a  derisive  smile  in  the  smoke- 
black  eyes. 

"Yes,  the  Virgin  sent  me,"  he  said  at  last,  "and 
she  came  near  sending  me  too  late.  The  trail  is  bad 
along  La  Christienita  for  the  night-time,  and  the 
night  is  close.  The  man  will  take  you  back  to  your 
friends." 

"  But  you,  father  ?  You  come  to  the  carriage  and 
see  the  mother  of  Rafael  —  no?  They  wait  for  us. 
Dona  Luisa  is  so  very  old;  she  will  be  anxious  till  she 
speak  with  me — and  with  you." 

She  arose  and  held  out  her  hand.  He  regarded 
her  strangely,  and  shook  his  head. 

"The  men  have  other  work  than  to  camp  with  a 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

pleasure  party.  I  stay  on  this  side  and  have  far  to 
travel  before  sunrise.  This  once  I  talk  with  you  — 
maybe  nevermore,  and  to  San  Juan  you  take  one 
message  for  Rafael  Arteaga." 

"  A  message  ?     Yes  ? " 

"Tell  him  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter  has  saved  to 
him  this  once  a  treasure ;  but  no  woman  can  guard 
him  always,  for  —  El  Capitan  is  never  too  far  to  come 
quickly ! " 

"Oh  —  Capitan?"  she  said  with  sudden  comprehen 
sion.  "  I  was  told  at  San  Luis  Rey  how  much  he  is 
the  enemy  of  Rafael.  But  it  must  not  be,  father. 
Cannot  we  help  that  ?  I  have  heard  of  Capitan  from 
an  old  soldier  of  the  wars,  who  told  me  all  I  know 
of  my  father:  he  was  a  brave  boy  and  —  he  fought 
beside  my  father.  I  remembered  that  when  I  passed 
his  mother's  grave  at  San  Luis  Rey  —  it  will  never 
be  bare  and  forgotten  again  —  never!  I  planted  it 
thick  with  the  passion-vine.  Dona  Luisa  tells  me 
she  was  a  great  woman.  She  prays  that  some  day 
the  two  cousins  may  be  friends." 

"  Dofla  Luisa  prays  for  what  only  the  good  God 
could  make  happen,"  said  the  priest,  grimly.  "  But  of 
course  all  things  are  possible  to  the  good  God,  even 
in  the  land  which  God  forgot.  Fidele  is  waiting." 

He  made  a  movement  toward  the  Mexican  holding 

[77] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

her  horse,  and  without  further  words  mounted  another 
animal  himself,  and  galloped  away  along  the  fringe 
of  trees  skirting  the  canon.  Several  of  the  others  fol 
lowed.  Only  three  remained  to  watch  Fidele  pilot  his 
charge  across  the  ford,  where  the  ford  was  safe  though 
deep ;  and  once  her  animal's  feet  touched  the  opposite 
bank,  her  attendant,  with  a  sweep  of  sombrero,  but  no 
words,  wheeled  his  own  horse  and  fell  in  line  after  his 
comrades,  who  were  disappearing  one  by  one  toward 
the  mountains. 

Raquel  Estevan  sat  her  horse  at  the  edge  of  the 
stream  and  stared  after  them,  giving  little  heed  to  the 
shrill  calls  and  exclamations  of  the  women.  Even 
after  they  had  stripped  her  of  the  soaked  riding-dress 
and  wrapped  her  in  scrapes  for  the  night,  she  main 
tained  a  thoughtful  silence,  and  all  Ana's  hints  of 
romances  went  for  nought,  so  far  as  gaining  replies 
or  special  notice. 

What  treasure  had  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter  saved 
for  Rafael  Arteaga  ?  And  why  —  why  —  that  strange 
intensity  of  the  priest?  These  questions  were  turned 
again  and  again  in  her  mind  as  she  lay  there  in 
the  light  of  the  camp-fire  watching  the  stars  move 
across  the  high  blue.  The  other  three  women  were 
sleeping  as  best  they  could  in  the  carriage,  smothered 
in  scrapes.  Jacoba  lamented  every  waking  moment, 

[78] 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

because  of  much-feared  rheumatism, —  she  was  so  cer 
tain  it  would  mean  a  camp  at  the  hot  springs  for 
a  month,  just  at  the  time  of  the  wedding! 

Dona  Luisa  made  no  complaint.  When  told  the 
carriage  could  not  by  any  means  cross  safely,  she 
braced  herself  for  the  ordeal  of  the  night,  and  Raquel, 
glancing  toward  her,  could  see  her  face  gray-white 
in  the  gathering  dusk.  All  the  night  that  gray  profile 
met  her  eyes,  for  she  slept  not  at  all. 

The  driver  had  stretched  himself  where  his  horses 
were  tethered,  but  the  two  Indian  boys  who  rode  with 
the  carriage  kept  a  fire  of  aliso  boughs  burning. 
They  would  nod  at  times  with  sleepiness,  but  the 
whispered  command  of  the  girl  ever  wakened  them 
quickly,  and  the  dying  fire  would  blaze  again.  There 
was  no  conversation,  only  brief  commands  and  prompt 
obedience;  and  thus  the  girl  passed  the  first  night  in 
the  land  of  her  father,  the  roar  of  the  sea  and  the 
wild  calls  of  the  coyotes  keeping  silence  from  the 
night. 

When  the  coyotes  ceased  and  the  birds  heralded 
dawn,  one  Indian  boy  rode  across  at  the  ford  and 
gauged  the  depth  of  the  water  on  his  cow-pony's  legs. 
It  was  "muy  bueno" — very  good  indeed,  the  water 
had  gone  down  a  foot,  and  before  the  dawn  broke, 
the  whole  cavalcade  was  again  under  way.  There  was 

[79] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

breakfast  to  ride  for,  and  it  was  several  miles  across 
the  hills. 

Pedro  was  of  the  opinion  that  there  was  a  round-up 
in  the  canon  of  La  Paz,  about  half-way  to  San  Juan. 
If  so,  there  might  be  "carne  oeco"  and  coffee  to  be 
had  —  perhaps  tortillas.  The  vaqueros  would  be 
eating  by  dawn,  but  if  it  was  possible  to  drive  fast, 
there  might  be  hope  of  coffee  at  least. 

So  Raquel  rode  ahead,  alert  at  the  coming  day  and 
the  promise  of  it.  Ana  was  glad  to  stay  in  the  car 
riage  with  the  older  women,  complaining  that  she  had 
caught  cold  from  the  sea-damp.  At  one  bend  of  the 
road  she  noticed  Raquel  far  ahead,  bending  low  over 
the  neck  of  her  horse,  scanning  the  ground.  Then 
she  turned  out  of  sight  under  the  live-oaks  in  a  narrow 
canon,  and  came  galloping  back  to  the  main  trail  as 
the  carriage  came  up. 

"One  would  think  you  were  searching  the  sand  for 
grains  of  gold  washed  down  from  the  mountains!" 
called  Ana;  but  the  girl  shook  her  head,  and  rode 
thoughtfully  up  the  incline  to  the  mesa  above.  She 
had  been  noting  the  curious  fact  that  the  party  of 
vaqueros  and  the  priest  had  left  the  trail  one  by  one, 
heading  toward  the  hills  wrapped  still  in  the  mist 
of  the  morning. 


[80] 


El  Charro. 


Nes-ces  -  i  -  to  buen  ca  -  bal  -  lo  .  .     Buena   Sil  -  la,   y  buen  ga  -  ban. 


CHAPTER   V 


T  La  Paz  they  were  in  time  for 
coffee,  and  Raquel,  who  had 
ridden  ahead  with  an  Indian 
boy,  was  told  a  strange  story 
by  the  Mexican  cook. 

A  good  breakfast  had  been 
cooked,  but  the  devil  had  got 
among  the  horses  in  the  night;  there  had  been  a 
stampede — or  something.  Every  one  had  got  into 
the  saddle  and  ridden  that  way — up  the  river, — 
no  one  had  come  back  to  tell  him  what  it  meant  or  to 
eat  the  breakfast  that  was  ready.  It  was  cold  now, 
all  but  the  coffee,  but  they  were  welcome  to  it. 

He  was  a  newcomer  in  the  land,  and  had  never 
heard  of  the  Dona  Luisa.  To  the  cholo  the  lady  or 
the  lord  of  the  land  is  often  an  unknown  personality; 
their  representative,  the  major-domo,  is  the  centre  of 
their  little  universe. 


Ens' 

is  ft 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

But  as  the  carriage  came  lurching  down  from  the 
mesa,  the  oldest  of  the  vaqueros,  a  very  black 
Indian,  rode  back  to  camp,  and  at  sight  of  Dona 
Luisa's  face  white  and  drawn  in  the  morning  light, 
he  slid  from  his  bronco,  and  ignoring  the  cook's 
impatient  questions  stood  with  bent  head  uncovered, 
until  the  old  mistress  noticed  him  and  spoke. 

"You  are  Benito,  are  you  not?"  she  asked,  as  she 
brought  him  to  the  carriage  with  a  gesture,  and  rested 
her  hand  on  his  to  alight. 

"Yes,  senora,"  said  the  old  man  with  grave 
courtesy,  though  trembling  with  pleasure  at  the  honor 
she  chose  to  bestow;  "I  am  Benito.  I  used  to  break 
all  the  horses  you  rode.  No  one  else  was  let  put  a 
hand  on  them.  You  do  not  forget;  I  thank  you." 

"I  could  not  forget  the  things  of  my  home.  Is 
there  coffee?  I  am  very  glad." 

She  held  her  left  hand  against  her  side,  and  the 
women  exchanged  frightened  glances  at  her  pallor  and 
the  strange  weakness  of  her  voice.  While  she  drank 
the  hot  coffee  Jacoba  deftly  drew  the  old  vaquero 
aside  to  look  at  a  bit  of  broken  carriage  harness  which 
Pedro  was  mending  with  rawhide. 

"Benito,  is  there  no  boy  here  to  ride  fast  to  the 
Mission?"  she  demanded  when  out  of  hearing  of  the 
others.  "Our  Dona  Luisa  is  a  sick  woman,  and  no 

[82] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

one  dare  say  it.  Some  one  must  go  and  have  a  bed 
ready — everything! " 

"There  is  no  boy  here.  The  horses  were  run  off 
last  night  by  Juan  Flores  or  Capitan — no  one  knows 
how  many.  All  the  men  have  gone  that  way.  I 
ride  to  the  Mission.  Don  Rafael,  he  go  to  San 
Diego  to-day." 

"To-day?  Santa  Maria!  he  may  have  gone!  Ride 
fast!" 

"He  not  go  yet,"  and  the  old  man  shrugged  his 
shoulders.  "Too  early.  Army  men  going  away. 
Don  Rafael  make  barbecue  yesterday,  and  last  night 
he  have  a  big  dance  for  the  Americanos  in  the 
Mission." 

"Hush!  Ride  fast!  We  will  drive  as  slow  as  she 
will  let  us.  But  tell  Don  Rafael  Arteaga  I  say  for 
him  to  meet  his  mother  on  the  road." 

Raquel  noticed  the  old  man  cantering  slowly  along 
the  level  green,  and  heard  the  sound  of  his  horse 
galloping  rapidly  once  he  was  out  of  sight  past  the 
fringe  of  sycamores  and  low  growths  along  the  river. 

"For  what  is  that,  Jacoba?"  she  asked. 

"Oh,  some  bandits  have  run  off  some  horses — 
they  may  send  more  vaqueros,"  she  replied  as  easily 
as  she  could  with  the  girl  watching  her  like  that. 

Raquel  looked  as  though  she  thought  all  the  truth 

[83] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

might  not  be  in  the  reply,  but  she  turned  quietly 
away. 

"I  would  have  ridden  with  him  if  I  had  known," 
she  said,  and  went  back  to  Dona  Luisa,  who  was  so 
eager  to  continue  the  journey  that  she  would  wait  for 
no  breakfast  but  the  coffee. 

"Cut  another  strap  of  the  harness  and  take  time  to 
mend  it,"  muttered  Jacoba  to  Pedro;  "we  are  not  all 
so  near  to  being  angels  that  we  can  live  without  eating." 

Thus  was  a  little  more  time  gained. 

Benito  made  the  second  crossing  where  the  river 
bends  around  the  mesa,  and  there  met  one  of  the  boys 
from  the  village  looking  for  a  pair  of  strayed  mules. 

"The  Don  Rafael — he  has  started  for  San  Diego?" 
demanded  Benito.  "Turn  and  ride  with  me,  Jose." 

The  boy  did  so,  grinning. 

"When  Don  Rafael  wake  up  to-day  he  much  too 
late  to  go  to  San  Diego,"  he  said,  and  the  old  man 
uttered  a  sigh  of  relief. 

"He  sleeping,  then?" 

"No  one  sleep  in  San  Juan  last  night,"  said  Jose. 
"There  was  the  supper,  and  some  girls  stay.  The 
army  men  they  all  start  north  an  hour  ago,  but 
maybe  the  others  still  dance  in  the  Mission.  Don 
Rafael  say  he  go  to  get  married,  this  is  his  last  night 
—  no  one  must  sleep,  or  be  sober!" 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Jose  thought  it  a  great  joke,  but  Benito  muttered, 
"  Jesus  and  San  Vicente!"  and  ordered  the  boy  to  go 
back  for  the  mules,  and  rode  on  down  the  valley 
alone. 

It  took  Jose  some  time  to  find  the  mules,  and 
when  he  did  find  them  they  were  even  more  perverse 
than  usual ;  he  had  got  them  so  near  home  as  the  hill 
above  San  Juan,  when  one  of  them  went  careering 
along  the  mesa  as  though  heading  for  San  Jacinto 
mountain. 

By  the  time  he  had  secured  it  and  got  back  near  the 
road  an  astonishing  sight  met  his  eyes  —  something 
one  was  not  used  to  seeing  at  sunrise  in  San  Juan. 

A  carriage  came  down  the  valley  road  from  La  Paz 
canon.  There  were  only  women  in  it,  and  two  In 
dian  boys  rode  in  the  rear.  Where  could  a  carriage 
like  that  come  from  at  such  an  hour?  No  one  who 
rode  in  carriages  lived  up  those  valleys! 

In  staring  at  the  carriage  he  failed  at  first  to 
notice  the  girl  on  horseback,  who  had  ridden  alone  in 
advance  of  the  carriage,  and  had  halted  in  the  road, 
on  the  brow  of  the  hill,  looking  down  across  the 
old  pueblo  to  the  sea. 

She  was  so  motionless,  he  was  very  close  before 
he  noticed  her,  close  enough  to  hear  her  indrawn 
breath  of  delight,  to  see  the  soft  flush  of  emotion 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

touch  her  face.  Almost  he  thought  there  were  tears 
in  her  eyes ;  he  thought  her  the  most  beautiful  lady 
he  had  ever  seen  alive,  —  though  one  picture  of  the 
Virgin  in  the  chapel  was  as  fine. 

Jose  stopped  at  the  sight  of  her  and  stood  very 
still.  He  could  not  drive  mules  into  the  road  ahead 
of  a  lady  who  was  more  lovely  than  even  the  wooden 
saints  with  the  gold  painted  around  the  border  of  their 
gowns  ;  and  that  is  how  he  chanced  to  see  a  strange 
meeting  on  that  hill. 

No  one  knew  why  the  English  senora  had  elected 
to  take  a  pleasure  ride  alone  that  morning,  when  the 
message  of  Benito,  shouted  as  he  galloped  past,  had 
effectually  banished  from  the  minds  of  Dolores  and 
Madalena  their  intended  picnic  at  the  hot  springs  in 
the  mountain,  for  which  they  were  all  ready,  and  had 
actually  started.  But  when  they  tumbled  with  de 
lighted  exclamations  from  the  new  American  buggy, 
and  straightway  forgot  all  their  plans  for  the  day, 
including  the  entertainment  of  their  English  guest, 
she  stared  in  ill-concealed  irritation  from  one  to  the 
other  as  they  chattered  in  Spanish,  scarcely  enlighten 
ing  her  as  to  the  reason  of  the  sudden  change  in 
their  plans. 

When  she  finally  gathered  the  idea  that  it  was  the 
unexpected  proximity  of  Rafael's  bride-to-be,  and  that 

[86] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

all  the  other  social  lights  of  the  valley  must  expect  to 
be  extinguished  in  her  honor,  the  red  lips  of  the 
Englishwoman  straightened  a  trifle,  and  the  baby-blue 
eyes  took  on  a  shade  of  coldness ;  for  since  her  arrival 
in  California  she  had  been  made  the  centre  of  many 
social  affairs.  In  San  Juan  her  one  week,  managed 
by  Teresa  and  Rafael,  had  been  enough  of  a  triumph 
to  cause  Keith  Bryton  inward  rage  and  to  hold  him 
there  as  long  as  an  excuse  to  stay  had  offered. 

Once  she  said  in  a  burst  of  irritated  frankness: 

"  For  mercy's  sake,  let  me  be  happy  once !  You  are 
a  dog  in  the  manger,  that's  all!  These  people  really 
live!  There  is  an  empire  here  for  the  right  woman, 
and  you  need  not  tug  at  my  chains  to  remind  me  that 
I  was  fool  enough  to  marry  before  I  found  it ! " 

And  now  the  real  ruler  of  the  empire  was  about  to 
enter  into  possession,  and  the  temporary  one  was 
frankly  forgotten!  Whatever  her  thoughts  were,  she 
did  not  mean  to  assist  at  the  royal  entry  of  those  two 
women  whose  rule  meant  the  ignoring  of  the  English- 
speaking  people. 

Only  Teresa,  watching  her  out  of  beady  black  eyes, 
comprehended  and  was  content.  Rafael  had  earned 
the  gift  she  had  promised,  but  it  had  gone  quite  far 
enough ;  it  was  as  well  Dona  Luisa  was  coming  with 
the  other  girl ! 

[87] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

So,  when  Bryton's  sister-in-law  looked  rather  blank 
and  did  not  descend  from  the  carriage,  it  was  Teresa 
who  agreed  that  it  was  a  morning  too  beautiful  to 
stay  indoors,  and  of  course  if  Dona  Angela  cared  to 
drive  alone  —  and  would  excuse  them  — 

Dona  Angela  would.  She  leaned  back  languidly, 
a  picture  of  carelessness,  and  motioned  the  driver  to 
go  on,  but  her  lips  still  held  their  straight  hard  line 
as  they  passed  the  great  dome  of  the  ruined  chancel, 
where  the  birds  held  sovereign  sway. 

"It  looks  like  a  place  for  a  throne,"  she  thought, 
enviously;  "and  a  black  creature  from  Mexico  is 
coming  to  rule  it!" 

They  were  crossing  the  bridge  at  the  streamlet, 
when  an  exclamation  from  the  driver  caused  her  to 
glance  ahead  and  see  the  erect  slender  figure  on  the 
dark  horse  silhouetted  against  the  yellow  flood  of 
sunrise. 

No  girl  of  San  Juan  rode  alone  like  that  on  the 
mesa,  and  certainly  not  one  would  have  paused  like 
that,  transfixed  by  the  beauty  before  her;  there  was 
not  one  that  would  not  rather  have  admired  the 
beautiful  new  buggy  and  the  pretty  hat  of  the  fair 
lady  in  it. 

But  the  girl  on  the  horse  did  not  appear  to  notice 
either  any  more  than  she  had  noticed  Jose.  Her 

[88] 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

horse  had  halted  straight  across  the  middle  of  the 
road.  The  driver  of  the  buggy  had  turned  aside 
before  she  brought  her  gaze  back  from  the  sea  cliffs 
to  rest  for  an  instant  on  the  fair  indignant  face  of 
the  Englishwoman. 

The  road  was  miles  wide  really — since  one  could 
drive  anywhere  on  the  mesa,  but  the  Mrs.  Teddy 
Bryton  had  heretofore  seen  every  native  step  aside 
from  the  beaten  trail  when  she  drove  abroad,  and  she 
was  furious  at  the  driver  for  turning  his  horses  an  iota 
out  of  his  way  for  that  girl  who  looked  like — what 
did  she  look  like? 

Mrs.  Bryton  could  not  have  put  into  words  the 
idea  of  the  girl's  face;  but  her  own  angry  blue  eyes 
were  caught  and  held  for  an  instant  by  strange 
fathomless  violet  ones — held  until  she  shrank  sud 
denly,  and  the  color  left  her  face.  Yet — as  the  car 
riage  paused,  her  head  was  still  turned  toward  the 
stranger,  and  Jose  saw  her  put  her  hands  suddenly 
across  her  eyes  with  a  gesture  of  repulsion  or  pain, 
and  sink  back  on  the  cushions. 

The  girl  on  the  horse  had  not  moved  a  muscle. 
She  might  have  been  carved  from  marble,  for  any  sign 
she  made  after  she  read  the  angry  insolence  of  the 
blue  eyes. 

"Don  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter,"  said  the  Mexican 

[89] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

driver,  "and  here  ahead  of  the  carriage  of  the  Senora 
Luisa — it  must  be  so." 

Mrs.  Bryton  gave  no  sign  that  she  heard,  neither 
did  she  glance  at  the  occupants  of  the  carriage  as 
they  whirled  past;  her  mind  held  only  one  hateful 
picture. 

"Felipe  Estevan's  daughter"  meant  that  she  had 
looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  "black  woman  from 
Mexico"  who  had  come  back  to  her  father's  land  to 
rule,  and  the  Mexican  woman  had  proven  not  so 
black  as  she  had  fancied,  and  had  sat  there  on  the 
crest  of  the  hill  with  a  pride  that  was  half  regal, — and 
almost  half  barbaric, — as  though  the  highway  was  her 
very  own — as  though  the  centre  of  it  belonged  to 
her  by  divine  right.  Mrs.  Bryton's  vain  soul  was 
fired  by  a  momentary  wild  temptation  to  test  that 
divine  right,  to  show  her  there  was  one  man  in  San 
Juan  not  to  be  ruled  by  anyone  else  if  she,  Angela 
Bryton,  cared  to  call  him  to  her  side  and  keep  him 
there.  Should  she — or  should  she  not? 

Teresa  was  quite  right  in  her  fancy  that  the  trick 
against  the  Americano  had  been  quite  successful 
enough;  it  was  time  the  other  girl  came  to  claim  her 
own! 


[90] 


La  Nocbe  Fatal. 

f  M oder ado. 


y-  J.IJTJg^^ 


En  -  la   no  -  che    fa  -  tal  que  a  tus  o  -  jos          Di  -  ri  -  gi   una    mi- 


ri  -  da  ar- do  -  ro   -    -    -    -    sa    Com-pren-di     que    la  die- ha    a -mo- 


I         IV 


ro    •    sa,          No  me  es  da  •  da    en  el  mun   -  do     go  -  zar. 


CHAPTER   VI 


T  was  quite  true  that  no  one  was 
allowed  to  sleep  that  night  of 
Rafael's  last  bachelor  supper. 
Because  of  Miguel's  death,  there 
could  be  no  dancing,  but  the 
hours  passed  merrily  enough, 
for  all  that.  The  army  men 
stayed  until  the  faint  gray  shone  in  the  east,  when 
they  mounted  and  rode  north  after  the  horses,  started 
a  day  ahead. 

Keith  Bryton  had  ridden  with  the  herd  as  far  as 
Santa  Ana,  and  then,  to  Angela's  amusement,  re 
turned  to  San  Juan.  She  was  certain  that  his  return 
had  not  been  for  Rafael's  supper,  but  to  see  that  she 

[9'] 


® 


! 


•^u^ 

H 


U 


»j£r&vrt&> 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

did  not  by  some  manoeuvre  manage  that  it  be  a 
ladies'  supper  and  graced  by  her  attendance.  She 
had  in  jest  threatened  to  suggest  it,  and  Keith  felt 
very  much  as  Teresa  felt — it  was  quite  time  the  bride 
were  at  hand  to  stop  a  flirtation  bordering  on  the 
dangerous. 

But,  after  all,  the  ladies  of  San  Juan  were  not 
included.  It  was  a  carouse  instead  of  an  entertain 
ment.  Girls  were  there,  and  guitars;  and  the  big 
Mission  doors  and  wooden  shutters  inside  the  deep 
windows  barred  the  outer  world  from  the  hilarity,  the 
songs,  the  shrieks  of  laughter  over  toasts  of  the  old 
men  to  the  groom-elect. 

At  earliest  dawn  the  army  men,  with  promises  and 
gold  pieces  to  the  girls,  and  an  extra  glass  to  Rafael 
and  his  bride,  mounted  their  horses  and  rode  north  to 
catch  up  with  the  herd  before  it  reached  Los  Angeles. 
One  of  the  girls  wept  lest  the  one  who  had  made  her 
favorite  might  never  ride  that  way  again,  and  the 
wilder  spirits  marched  around  her  with  lighted  can 
dles,  singing  a  funeral  dirge,  ending  in  a  wild  fandango. 

Don  Antonio  was  there,  and  old  Ricardo  Ruiz,  and 
they  sat  through  the  night  playing  with  the  dice,  and 
emptying  each  other's  pockets  in  turn,  and  comparing 
the  old  entertainment  with  the  new,  between  the  drinks. 

The  fandango  ended  by  Concha,  the  weeping  one, 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

doing  the  maddest  dancing  of  all,  and  Fernando 
Mendez  poured  out  goblets  of  wine  to  drink  luck 
to  her  next  lover. 

"It  is  good  luck  for  himself  he  wants,  Concha!" 
called  Rafael  across  the  room.  "Fernando  is  a  coyote, 
always  awake  for  young  chickens!" 

"Concha  mia,  he  is  jealous;  never  heed  him,  but 
drink  wine  with  me  to  the  next  lover!" 

"He  offers  her  a  glass  of  wine,  Antonio,"  grunted 
old  Don  Ricardo.  "Huh! — that  is  the  love-making 
of  California  to-day!" 

"True,  Ricardo;  at  his  age  you  or  I  would  have 
been  at  her  feet  and  our  jewels  on  her  breast." 

"Fernando  has  no  jewels  left." 

"I  should  say  not.  His  father  made  love  after  our 
fashion,  hence  — 

"The  deluge!" 

"The  deluge  of  poverty  and  Americanos,"  assented 
Antonio.  "A  plague  on  them  both!  They  have 
changed  the  land!" 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  Rafael's  end  of  the  table 
drowned  the  grumblings  of  the  old  men.  Rafael  had 
told  a  story  so  very  funny  that  the  girls  had  shrieked 
and  giggled  and  protested  behind  their  fans. 

"Fie,  Don  Rafael!  and  you  to  be  a  married  man 
in  a  week!" 

[93] 


^^W   » 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"  But  a  week  is  seven  nights  away,  and  all  of  them 
your  own,  Merced  mia!" 

"  Merced ! "  called  another  man  from  a  game  of  malia 
at  an  old  table  once  used  for  altar  service — "Merced, 
darling,  never  listen  to  a  word  he  says!  A  paltry  seven 
nights!  My  heart  is  at  your  feet  for  a  lifetime!" 

"Of  nights  or  days,  senor?"  asked  the  girl, 
laughingly. 

"She  caught  you  there,  Senor  Gonzales,"  observed 
Bryton,  who  was  dealing  the  cards.  "Don  Rafael, 
after  all,  makes  the  only  definite  offer." 

"You  are  right,  Don  Keith,"  returned  the  other. 
"With  the  help  of  the  Americanos,  Don  Rafael 
is  learning  to  be  a  good  maker  of  bargains." 

"The  sooner  the  rest  of  you  learn  the  same  trick, 
the  better  for  California!"  retorted  Rafael. 

"You  hear?"  said  Don  Ricardo. 

"Sure,"  assented  the  major-domo.  "What  if  his 
mother  heard?" 

"All  the  saints!     There  would  be  murder!" 

"Por  Dios!"  exclaimed  Rafael,  as  a  servant  opened 
a  window  because  of  the  thick  tobacco  smoke;  "it 
is  daylight,  and  I  must  start  for  San  Diego.  My 
last  bachelor  carouse  is  ended,  and  none  of  us  under 
She  table!" 

"  How  sad  that  we  are  still  able  to  stand  on  our 

[94] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

own  feet!"  laughed  Merced.  "See!"  and  she  sprang 
to  the  top  of  a  beautiful  silver-decorated  chest  against 
the  wall ;  "  one  of  us  is  even  able  to  dance  good-bye 
to  your  last  night  of  freedom  !  Good-bye,  O  free  heart 
of  Don  Rafael !  On  some  to-morrow  the  bride  comes!" 

"Holy  Maria!"  ejaculated  Don  Antonio,  putting 
his  glass  down ;  "she  is  dancing  on  the  donas  of  the 
bride!" 

"The  donas!"  echoed  Don  Ricardo,  aghast;  "and 
the  bride  a  young  saint  stolen  from  the  Church! — 
the  donas!" 

"What's  that?"  asked  Bryton,  while  the  rest 
applauded  the  dancer.  "Donas?" 

"The  gifts  of  the  groom  to  the  bride, —  the  gown, 
the  wedding  veil,  the  —  holy  God!  it's  sacrilege!" 

"Is  it?"  asked  the  American;  "then  we'll  stop  it. 
Come  to  coffee,  Merced!" 

Without  further  ceremony  he  picked  the  girl  up 
in  his  arms,  and  carried  her,  laughing  and  struggling, 
into  the  great  refectory,  where  the  Indian  servants 
were  placing  breakfast  on  the  table. 

"That  was  quick  work,  Antonio,"  observed  Don 
Ricardo,  with  a  breath  of  relief. 

"Sure;  he  is  the  best  of  all  the  Americanos.  Ai! 
even  more  like  the  caballeros  of  other  days  than  our 
own  sons!" 

[95] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Don  Ricardo  did  not  care  to  commit  himself  so 
far  as  that.  He  contented  himself  with  grumbling 
at  Rafael's  indifference. 

"And  the  girl  a  young  saint — meant  to  live  in 
religion!" 

Bryton  rejoined  them  with  a  cup  of  coffee,  and 
both  the  men  hastened  to  assure  him  that  it  was  not 
Rafael  who  was  in  fault,  but  the  many  glasses  he 
had  emptied. 

"Sure,  it  was  the  glasses,"  affirmed  Don  Ricardo. 
"  No  man  of  California  would  let  a  girl  of  pleasure 
dance  on  the  things  sacred  to  the  woman  of  his 
family;  eh,  Antonio?" 

"Of  course;  at  any  other  time  Rafael  would  have 
thrown  the  girl  through  a  window;  truly,  he  would!" 

"No  doubt  of  it,"  agreed  Bryton. 

"Dona  Luisa  has  given  the  boy  a  long  rope.  It 
must  be  that  she  has  learned  that  it  is  too  long — she 
comes  back  after  the  years  to  steady  him  with  a  wife, 
— and  such  a  wife!  Young,  wealthy,  beautiful!" 

"And  a  young  nun,  all  but  the  veil!" 

"That  seems  rather  a  joke — or  a  tragedy — after  all 
this,"  and  Bryton  motioned  to  the  remainders  of  the 
night's  carouse. 

"If  there  is  a  joke,  it  is  the  devil  playing  it  on  the 
saints." 

[96] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Sure;  and  the  devil  wins,"  agreed  Don  Antonio. 
"It  is  all  settled.  The  Dona  Luisa  is  a  wise  woman. 
Her  son  wins  a  wife,  and  the  convent  loses  a  fortune 
and  a  nun  at  the  same  time." 

"Had  the  good  son  nothing  to  do  with  the 
arrangement?"  asked  the  American,  dryly. 

"Oh,  of  course,  senor.  Three  times  he  have  gone 
to  Mexico,  where  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter  visit 
with  his  mother.  He  has  time  to  sing  many  dozens 
of  serenades, — all  of  the  burning  hearts  and  torment 
of  love,  and  lost  souls,  to  make  a  girl  have  pity. 
Maybe  she  have  never  before  talked  with  one  young 
man,  one  minute  of  her  life;  who  knows  ?" 

"It  is  good  time  she  comes,"  observed  Don 
Ricardo.  "One  year — two  years,  and  Rafael,  like 
Miguel,  would  be  content  with  half-breed  children 
and  their  mother.  Little  Marta's  child  is  born,  and 
they  say  she  will  not  stay  at  Las  Flores,  where  he 
sent  her — not  for  the  best  house  there!" 

A  peal  of  laughter  reached  them  from  the  other  room. 

"Bravo!"  called  Rafael;  "I  take  you  at  your  word, 
Merced.  A  kiss  to  seal  the  compact!" 

"Keep  it  for  your  wedding-day,  Don  Rafael,"  she 
retorted,  and  ran  from  him  through  the  door  into  the 
room  where  the  three  men  were  talking.  But  Rafael 
caught  her  inside  the  portal,  and  dragged  her  back, 

[97] 


**•'<»• 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

his  face  flushed  and  his  beautiful  eyes  glowing. 

"I  will  have  it!"  he  muttered,  with  his  lips  against 
her  own.  "You  pretty  devil,  I  will!" 

"And  this  is  the  home  your  young  nun  will  come 
to  from  her  convent,"  Bryton  remarked.  "Some  one 
said  there  was  Indian  blood  in  her  family;  it  may 
prove  fortunate,  for  she  will  need  war-clubs  instead 
of  religion  to  quell  this  sort  of  thing." 

"But  with  the  help  of  her  saints  — ' 

"Of  course,"  agreed  Bryton;  "with  the  help  of  her 
saints  all  things  may  happen." 

An  Indian  servant  came  in  from  the  plaza,  and 
closed  the  door  and  stood  with  his  back  against  it. 

"The  Dofta  Madalena,  and  Dona  Dolores,  and  the 
Senora  Bryton,  stop  in  the  calesha,"  he  announced, 
stoically;  "they  come  in!" 

"Bar  that  door!  they  sha'n't;  they  must  not!" 
called  Bryton,  but  it  was  too  late.  The  side  door 
opened,  and  the  three  appeared — the  two  girls  plainly 
frightened,  but  Mrs.  Bryton  beautifully  audacious. 

"Nonsense!  Dona  Teresa  will  not  scold;  we  will 
stop  only  a  minute.  Your  uncle  and  cousin  are  here 
— it  is  all  right!"  Then  she  saw  Bryton,  and  laughed. 

"I  told  you  I  would  at  least  see  inside,"  she 
observed,  "and  it  is  quite  worth  while.  What  a 
magnificent  chest!" 

[98] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Bryton  walked  directly  to  her. 

"I  will  see  you  to  your  carriage,"  he  said,  laying 
his  hand  on  her  arm.  "What  the  devil  did  you 
mean  by  this  bravado?" 

She  wrenched  her  arm  free  and  regarded  him  coolly. 

"Thanks.  I  came  because  I  said  I  would  come, 
and  you  said  not  to  dare.  'Dare'  is  a  risky  word, 
amigo.  We  will  go  directly.  We  are  going  to  the 
hills,  and  only  halted  to  wish  good  luck  to  Rafael." 

"Malediction!"  muttered  Don  Antonio.  "He 
can't  be  seen — he — 

A  burst  of  laughter  came  from  the  dining-room, 
and  the  two  girls  retreated  toward  the  door. 

"Women!"  breathed  Dolores;  "if  Dona  Teresa 
hears  this — 

"It  is  the  servants — only  the  servants,"  said  Don 
Antonio.  "Don  Rafael  has  perhaps  started  on  his 
journey;  he  will  be  disconsolate  that — " 

But  at  that  moment  Rafael  and  Fernando  came  in 
from  the  dining-room,  one  smoothing  his  hair  and 
one  arranging  his  cravat.  Rafael  was  the  less  sober 
of  the  two,  but  he  managed  to  bow  with  a  certain 
grace  as  he  took  Mrs.  Bryton's  hand. 

"My  poor  house  is  at  your  service,  madama,"  he 
murmured,  "and  I  am  at  your  feet.  I  hastened  to 
you  as  soon  as — " 

[99] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

— "As  soon  as  he  could  get  the  other  girls  out 
the  back  door,"  remarked  Fernando,  aside  to  Bryton. 

"Mr.  Bryton  was  horribly  cross  to  me  for  coming 
in;  he  thinks  it  too  unconventional;  he  thinks  I  do 
not  know  the  Spanish  customs,  and — ' 

"I  offer  myself  as  your  teacher,"  said  Rafael, 
looking  straight  into  the  blue  eyes.  "Believe  me, 
senora,  there  are  many  delightful  things  to  be  learned 
in  old  California!" 

"I  shall  remember  your  offer,"  she  returned,  smil 
ingly.  "See  how  sulky  Mr.  Bryton  looks!  He 
never  takes  time  to  be  gallant  himself." 

"That  is  true,"  assented  Rafael.  "He  never  looks 
at  the  girls,  or  speaks  except  to  tell  them  to  keep  quiet." 

"Oh!"  she  replied,  with  a  little  malicious  smile, 
"there  is  always  a  girl  excepted!" 

Bryton  looked  at  her  with  impatient  wonder;  he  was 
about  to  speak,  when  an  Indian  came  in  with  a  tray 
of  coffee,  and  Rafael  offered  a  cup  to  Mrs.  Bryton. 

"Honor  me,  madama,  and  let  us  hear  of  the  girl 
who  is  an  exception." 

"Bravo!  The  exceptions  are  always  of  interest. 
Don  Keith 'is  forever  a  reproach  to  the  rest  of  us;  he 
has  no  vices." 

"Or  conceals  them  better!"  put  in  Rafael,  with  a 
touch  of  malice. 

[too] 


1 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"You  are  to  be  unmasked,  senor,"  murmured 
Dolores,  with  lenient  eyes. 

Bryton  glanced  at  his  watch  and  then  with 
impatience  at  his  sister-in-law. 

"I  have  not  the  slightest  idea  of  the  lady's 
meaning,"  he  said,  coldly;  "and  if  you  want  to  make 
an  early  start  for  the  hot  springs — " 

Mrs.  Bryton  shut  her  teeth  together  with  a  little 
click,  at  his  palpable  ignoring  of  herself. 

"Oh  —  short  memory  of  man!"  she  said,  chidingly; 
"He  has  forgotten  in  a  year!" 

"A  year? "  Bryton  stared  at  her  with  a  puzzled 
frown,  and  a  slight  motion  of  his  hand  toward  the  door. 
That,  with  its  little  suggestion  of  authority,  decided  her. 

"I  shall  tell  it,''  she  announced.  "How  many  of 
you  believe  in  love  at  first  sight?" 

"All  of  us,  after  meeting  you!"  declared  Rafael, 
with  an  exaggerated  bow. 

"Sure!"  agreed  Don  Ricardo. 

"My  husband,  you  know,  is  an  engineer,  and  goes  on 
long  journeys  into  queer  corners  of  the  mining  world." 

"Bad  habit  for  husbands  with  pretty  wives," 
remarked  Don  Antonio. 

"Last  Winter,"  continued  she,  slowly  sipping  her 
coffee  and  watching  Bryton;  "last  Winter  he  went  to 
Mexico." 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Pardon!  We  do  not  ask  for  the  love  affairs  of 
your  lucky  husband,  but — " 

"But  last  Winter  Don  Keith  went  along;  yes — he 
went  along  to  look  up  some  mining  property  in  the 
Indian  hills,  and  when  he  came  back —  Have 
any  of  you  noticed  the  peculiar  ring  Mr.  Bryton 
wears?" 

"Angela!"  said  Keith,  sharply;  but  she  looked  at 
him  with  smiling  insolence. 

"Oh,  I  know  your  little  romance  of  Dona 
Espiritu;  Teddy  told  me. " 

"Damn  Teddy!"  he  remarked,  while  the  rest 
shouted  with  laughter  at  the  color  flaming  in  his  face. 

"Dona  Espiritu!"  repeated  Don  Ricardo.  "The 
lady  of  the  Spirit — let  us  hope  it  was  a  good  spirit, 
Don  Keith — and  that  she  was  kind!" 

"To  her  health!"  cried  Rafael.  "Pour  brandy, 
Fernando;  we  drink  our  last  toast  of  this  meeting  to 
the  love  of  Don  Keith — to  the  Dona  Espiritu!" 

"I  would  rather  see  the  ring  than  drink  the  toast," 
said  Dolores.  "May  I,  seiior?" 

"There  is  nothing  remarkable  about  it,  except 
that  it  is  very,  very  old,"  and  he  held  out  his  hand  for 
her  inspection.  "An  onyx  engraved  with  the  Aztec 
eagle — now  the  Mexican  eagle." 

"But  given  him  by— 

[102] 


ILJt 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"By  a  lady  who  was  of  service  to  my  brother,  to 
an  old  priest,  and  to  me." 

"See  how  he  drags  in  the  others,"  laughed  Mrs. 
Bryton.  "Teddy  and  the  priest  got  no  ring;  Ted 
had  a  knife-thrust,  and  the  priest  a  black  eye.  Keith 
had  some  hurt  on  the  head,  from  which  he  had  a  long 
and  interesting  case  of  fever." 

"  Let  us  hope  Dona  Espiritu  nursed  him  through 
it,  and  the  priest  did  not  watch  them  too  closely," 
remarked  Rafael,  with  a  meaning  glance  at  Bryton. 
The  last  drink  of  brandy  had  been  the  one  too  many, 
and  his  smile  was  not  nice. 

"Did  she  nurse  him  through  the  illness?"  whis 
pered  Madalena  in  Angela's  ear. 

"Oh,  I  could  tell,"  said  the  latter,  demurely;  "but 
Keith  evidently  resents  hi?  romances  being  made 
public." 

"  Senorita,  there  is  no  more  to  tell,"  remarked  Keith, 
coldly;  "not  even  so  much  as  Angela  would  suggest. 
My  brother  and  an  old  priest  and  I  lost  our  way  in 
the  hills;  and  seeing  a  light,  we  chanced  on  some 
religious  meeting  of  a  strange  hill  tribe  of  Indians. 
They  thought  we  were  spies  of  the  Church  or  the 
government,  and  there  was  trouble.  A  lady,  whom 
the  Indians  and  the  priest  called  by  the  name  you 
heard,  saved  us  all  that  night.  She  was  the  one 

[I03] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

person    of   the    Catholic    Church   they    would   allow 
to  know  them  well,  and  she  was  a  nun  or  a  novice." 

"Santa  Maria!  and  she  gave  you  rings?" 

"The  ring  was  some  talisman  respected  by  the 
tribe.  She  put  it  on  my  finger  after  I  had  been  struck 
down  and  —  well — used  up.  It  stopped  them  when 
words  were  of  no  use.  We  made  a  litter  for  the  old 
priest,  and  tied  Teddy  on  a  burro, — he  had  a  leg 
wound, — and  we  walked  beside  them  over  the  wil 
derness  trail  until  dawn  came,  and  we  met  help. 
I  fainted  from  loss  of  blood  about  that  time,  and 
Teddy  and  I  recuperated  in  the  house  of  the  old 
priest.  We  never  saw  the  lady  again." 

"You  never  saw  her  again  after  an  adventure  like 
that!"  cried  Fernando  in  amaze.  "That  is  cold  blood 
for  you ! " 

"It  may  be  that  she  was  ugly  —  or  old,"  suggested 
Rafael. 

"On  the  contrary,  she  was  so  charming  that  he 
shouted  for  her  in  the  delirium  of  the  fever;  that  is 
how  Teddy  learned  that  she  was  the  one  exception 
among  girls!  But  all  their  scheming  could  not  learn 
her  name  from  the  priest  or  the  Mexicans.  t  Dona 
Espiritu'  was  all  they  ever  heard.  Teddy  fancied  they 
had  shipped  her  to  Spain  for  the  adventure  with  a 
heretic  that  one  night." 

[104] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Is  it  all  true,  senor?"  asked  Dolores.  "Dofia 
Angela  laughs  at  it,  and  you  frown;  and  between  the 
two,  how  are  we  to  know  how  serious  it  may  all  be 
to  you  ? " 

"  Serious  enough  to  make  him  bare  his  head  at 
every  old  battered  shrine  for  her  sake,"  said  Angela, 
with  a  little  shrug;  "and  an  old  ring  of  his  mother's 
was  lost  from  his  finger  on  that  wilderness  trail,  white 
the  Mexican  eagle  took  its  place.  Oh,  nuns  are 
only  women  after  all,  and  much  can  happen  in  the 
length  of  a  Mexican  night!" 

"Well,  senor,"  said  Dolores,  with  sudden  courage, 
"I  am  a  good  Catholic,  thank  God!  and  I  see  no 
sacrilege  in  the  sort  of  love  for  which  a  man  bares  his 
head  at  a  shrine.  Senor  Bryton,  the  story  will  make 
us  of  California  more  than  ever  your  friends !" 

"Sure,"  agreed  Don  Antonio. 

"I  am  at  your  feet,  seftorita, "  said  Bryton,  with 
kindly  deference.  "Now,  Mrs.  Bryton,  if  you  have 
no  other  —  romances  —  to  elaborate  and  embellish, 
perhaps  you  will  allow  me  to  see  you  to  your  carriage, 
before  I  start  for  Los  Angeles.  Don  Rafael  is  de 
tained  by  us  when  he  should  be  on  his  way  south, 
and—" 

"Oh — I  beg  — "  began  Rafael,  but  Madalena 
interrupted. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Not  another  moment  must  we  stay.  Aunt 
Teresa  will  scold  us  well  for  this ! " 

"For  taking  pity  on  a  lonely  bachelor?"  asked 
Rafael. 

"  Lonely  ? "  repeated  Dolores  "  We  will  come 
again  when  the  bride  comes.  Until  then  we  leave 
you  to  prepare  your  soul  with  this  —  and  this  !  " 

She  motioned  to  the  decanter,  and  picked  up  the 
scarlet  fan  of  Mercedes. 

"You  cruel  one!  You  would  make  Dona  Angela 
think  —  but  do  not  think  it,  madama!  I  assure  you, 
it  is  my  mother's  —  or  my  aunt's  —  or  —  ' 

"He  never  had  an  aunt,"  laughed  Madalena. 
"Come,  Uncle  Ricardo,  Dona  Maxima  wants  you 
at  home;  she  is  at  our  house  saying  things  to  make 
your  ears  burn." 

"Sure!  "  said  Don  Ricardo,  getting  on  his  feet  and 
taking  the  cane  offered  him.  "  But  it  is  in  honor 
of  Dona  Luisa  Arteaga  I  am  here.  When  her  son 
makes  gay  company,  it  is  the  time  for  the  steady 
friends  of  the  family  to  stay  by.  So  I  am  here,  Ma 
dalena  mia;  and  I  shall  say  to  my  wife  I  was  here  all 
the  evening,  right  here  at  this  table  as  a  respectable 
friend,  and  won  seventy  pesos!" 

"Sure,  he  did,"  assented  Don  Antonio.  "But  it  is 
over !  The  sun  is  up,  it  is  good  time  to  go  home." 

[106] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Rafael  managed  in  the  farewells  to  kiss  the  hand 
of  Mrs.  Bryton  twice,  and  to  be  observed  by  Bryton 
only  once.  That  was  enough  of  victory  for  the  mo 
ment,  and  when  the  door  was  closed  he  flung  himself 
into  a  chair  and  reached  again  for  the  decanter. 

"Ai!  she  is  delicious — the  madama  whose  hus 
band  plans  mines  and  goes  on  long  voyages!  How 
she  makes  our  women  look  tame!" 

aTah!  She  is  insolent,  that  is  all.  We  would 
lock  up  our  women  if  they  had  the  American  way. 
Drink  coffee — not  more  brandy." 

"To  the  devil  with  your  coffee!  And  it  is  not  an 
American  way — she  is  English — the  delicious  lady!" 

"Worse  still!"  grunted  Fernando. 

"  How  ? "  roared  Rafael,  straightening  up  in  his  chair. 
"You  forget,  sefior !  She  is  my  friend — my  very  illus 
trious  friend — she  is — no  matter  what  she  is.  Her  hus 
band  goes  on  long  voyages — and  you  must  apologize 
to  me — you  hear?  I  have  the  admiration  for  her — I — " 

"You  are  drunk;  that  is  what  ails  you,  Rafael," 
said  his  friend,  bluntly.  "You  think  that  you  are 
in  love  with  that  woman,  but  you  are  only  drunk." 

"Drunk — I?  And  you  call  her — call  the  illustrious 
lady  who  is  a  friend  of  mine,  'that  woman!'  Seftor, 
there  are  two  swords  on  the  wall.  You  take  your 
choice — you — " 

[107] 


!« 


Fernando  tried  to  avoid  him,  but  he  wrenched  the 
sword  from  the  wall  and  lunged  at  him  wickedly. 

But  for  a  girl  who  shrieked  and  rushed  from  a 
shadowy  doorway,  and  flung  herself  on  the  arm  of 
Rafael,  it  would  have  gone  ill  with  Fernando. 

"Rafael  mio!"  she  cried,  clinging  to  him,  "for  the 
love  of  God!" 

"Marta!"  he  cried,  and  dropped  the  weapon.  "I 
—did  I  not  tell  you—" 

He  broke  off  vaguely,  and  avoided  Fernando's 
eyes;  that  young  man  laughed  good-naturedly. 

"Another  illustrious  friend  whose  husband  goes  on 
long  voyages!"  he  said,  lightly.  "I  leave  you,  my 
friend,  until  you  are  sober.  Senorita,  adios." 

Rafael  stared  moodily  at  the  girl.  She  was  a  pretty 
bit  of  bronze  flesh  with  passionate  eyes. 

"I  told  you  to  stay  on  the  ranch,"  he  said  at  last; 
but  she  broke  into  tears  and  caught  his  hands. 

"I  could  not!  They  all  know — the  old  woman 
and  the  priest.  They  thought  I  was  dying,  and  he 
came  and  I  had  to  tell  him  the  name  of  the  child's 
father;  and — and  when  my  own  father  comes  back 
from  the  herding  he  will  beat  me,  and  I  will  not 
stay!  I  will  not!  He  is  not  a  fine  gentleman, 
Rafael;  he  is  only  a  herder  who  was  a  soldier  in 
Mexico.  Fine  words  would  not  count  with  him, 

[i  08] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

unless  it  would  be  words  before  the  priest,  and  you 
promised— 

"Jesus,  Maria,  and  Joseph!"  burst  out  Rafael. 
"What  an  hour  to  come  with  a  list  of  a  man's  prom 
ises!  I've  been  up  all  night,  and  I'd  fight  with  the 
saints  if  they  came  my  way.  Go,  Marta;  I  will  tell 
Antonio  to  make  a  home  for  you  away  from  the  crazy 
herder.  I  —  I  am  very  busy;  I  start  south  in  an 
hour." 

"But,  Rafael  —  " 

"Well— well?" 

"They  say  you  are  to  marry  an  illustrious  seftorita 
— that  you — 

"They  say  a  lot  there  is  no  sense  in  saying!"  he 
burst  out  angrily.  "If  you  had  stayed  on  the  ranch, 
you  would  not  have  heard  their  lies  or — 

"Ai!  I  am  happy  that  it  is  not  true.  But  that 
one  lady — whose  hands  you  kissed — Rafael — ' 

"Oh,  for  the  love  of  God,  go!"  he  said.  "You 
women  drive  a  man  mad!  You — 

Fernando  rushed  in,  interrupting  him: 

"Rafael!     Your  mother — she  is  here!" 

"My  mother?" 

"On  the  hill  —  her  carriage  —  a  man  brings  the 
news." 

"Damnation!     Coming  here  —  now?   And  my  head 
[109] 


—  Yes,  it's  true,  Fernando;  I  was  drunk.  Help  me 
to  think!  Make  them  clear  all  this  away!"  and  he 
pointed  to  the  tables  and  the  dice  and  the  cards  on 
the  floor.  "For  Dios,  how  my  head  swims!  And 
my  mother  is  no  fool  —  she  will  see!  Think,  Fer 
nando  !  Help  me  to  plan  something.  And  you, 
Marta,  let  yourself  not  be  seen  !  " 

The  frightened  girl  was  only  too  glad  to  slip  away, 
while  the  rest  of  the  group  stripped  the  rooms  of  evi 
dences  of  the  night's  orgy. 

"  Mount  a  horse  and  ride  to  the  beach,"  decided 
Fernando.  "You  will  be  gone  on  business,  to  see 
about  —  eh  —  to  see  if  the  vessel  for  hides  has  come 
in.  Make  yourself  decent,  and  I  will  send  a  messen 
ger  after  you.  Don't  be  too  easily  found  —  you  are 
likely  to  be  drunker  in  an  hour  than  you  are  now." 

"Curse  the  brandy !  And  Bryton  was  to  come  back 
to  see  me  about  —  oh,  God  knows  what!  But  don't 
let  my  mother  see  him  —  an  accursed  heretic  Ameri 
cano,  you  know  !  Dios  !  If  I  could  only  sleep  for 
an  hour ! " 

Fernando  fairly  pushed  him  out  at  the  door. 

"Take  a  sea  bath;  drink  black  coffee;  get  out  of 
sight  while  I  receive  the  bride!" 

Then,  after  the  door  was  closed  on  the  groom-elect, 
he  took  a  quick  survey  of  the  room. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"That  is  right,  open  all  the  windows.  Some  one 
cut  lilies — the  white  ones — quick!  Hide  this  fan  for 
Merced.  Light  those  candles  on  the  Virgin's  shrine, 
and  put  the  lilies  there  and  on  the  table.  Whose  pipe 
is  this  under  the  edge  of  our  lady's  lace  robe?  It 
smells  vilely  —  take  it  away  !  Where  is  the  key  of 
the  chest  of  the  donas?  Here  it  is  in  the  chest,  and 
that  is  unlocked — only  Rafael  could  do  that.  Let  us 
hope  he  has  not  let  Merced  try  on  the  wedding-dress! 
Are  there  no  more  flowers  ?  Get  some  for  the  room 
of  the  senorita.  Tell  some  one  to  make  French  coffee. 
Manuel,  put  out  the  light." 

Dolores  and  Madalena  ran  through  the  open  door, 
breathless. 

"Fernando,  she  is  here — the  Senora  Arteaga, 
and — " 

"Already!  Aunt  Teresa  told  us  to  run  and  help; 
she  will  come  also.  Don  Rafael?" 

"Has  ridden  to  the  harbor." 

"  More  likely  to  bed,"  remarked  Madalena,  skep 
tically. 

"Senorita!" 

"Sh — h!"  whispered  Dolores,  with  lifted  hand. 
"The  carriage;  they  are  in  the  plaza!" 

She  rushed  out,  and  the  others  followed.  Teresa 
was  there  greeting  Dona  Luisa;  but  all  fell  suddenly 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

silent  as  they  noticed  the  gray-white  of  the  old  face, 
and  the  frail  figure  as  she  descended  from  the  carriage 
with  the  help  of  Fernando  Mendez  and  Ana  —  his 
cousin's  widow. 

Fernando  cast  one  glance  at  the  girl  who  sat  her 
horse  and  glanced  over  their  heads  for  the  face  she 
did  not  see. 

A  wizened  old  Indian  woman  alighted  from  a  cart 
and  came  to  her  and  touched  her  foot  on  the  stirrup. 

"It  is  your  new  land,  little  mistress,"  she  said,  in  a 
tongue  not  understood  by  the  others,  "the  land  of 
your  handsome  lover." 

The  girl  looked  again  across  the  many  faces  gather 
ing  in  the  plaza,  and  then  accepted  the  help  of  Don 
Antonio  to  alight. 

"But  he  is  not  here,  Polonia — the  handsome  lover," 
she  returned,  and  then  walked  past  all  the  others  and 
slipped  her  hand  under  the  arm  of  Dona  Luisa. 

"A  thousand  welcomes,  seftora,"  said  Fernando, 
at  the  portal.  "The  town  will  rejoice  to-day." 

"One  welcome  I  had  a  right  to  expect  at  this  door," 
the  old  lady  answered,  "and  he  is  not  here." 

"He  will  be  heart-broken.  He  did  not  think  you 
had  yet  reached  San  Diego.  To-day  he  was  to  start 
for  there.  Will  it  please  you  to  have  this  seat?" 

"Not  yet,"  she  said.     "Raquelita!" 

[112] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Raquel  Estevan  gently  disengaged  her  other  hand 
from  Dolores,  and  the  frail  old  woman  led  her  to  the 
little  shrine  of  the  Virgin,  where  the  candles  glim 
mered.  The  others  halted  at  the  door,  but  Fernando 
and  Dolores  and  Ana  knelt  also  as  the  old  woman 
and  the  girl  from  Mexico  clasped  hands  and  bent 
heads  before  the  statue  in  the  niche. 

The  old  woman  rose  first  and  kissed  the  girl's 
forehead. 

"My  daughter,"  she  said,  faintly,  "I  welcome  you 
for  my  son  and  for  myself,  to  the  land  where  you  are 
mistress.  Now,  senor!" 

Fernando  placed  a  chair  for  her,  and  she  sank  into 
it  wearily. 

"My  last  journey,  my  children!  You  are  the  son 
of  Manuel  Mendez? — we  called  ourselves  cousins 
once.  I  present  you — all  of  you — to  my  daughter 
—  Dona  Raquel  Estevan." 

"At  your  feet,  sefiorita!"  said  Fernando. 

"I  appreciate  the  honor  of  your  acquaintance, 
senor,"  replied  Raquel,  in  the  conventional  greeting 
of  the  day  and  land.  Then  the  others  crowded  about, 
and  spoke  many  pretty  things  of  welcome.  But  in  the 
midst  of  it  all  Dona  Luisa  arose,  and  leaning  on 
Jacoba's  arm,  passed  into  the  room  prepared  for  her. 
The  group  left  behind  stared  into  each  other's  eyes. 

C"3] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"How  frail!  How  could  any  creature  like  that 
make  the  journey?"  asked  Fernando.  "She  has 
been  very  ill. " 

"She  is  ill;  we  dare  not  mention  it  to  her!' 

"But  Rafael— her  son—" 

"Must  not  be  told,  so  she  says;  not  until  the 
wedding  is  over.  All  at  once  she  has  gone  like  that. 
It  is  the  heart,  senor,  and  she  is  old.  It  may  be 
months  —  may  be  days  —  may  be  only  hours,  and 
we  can  do  nothing  but  keep  her  quiet  and  happy." 

"Santa  Maria!"  muttered  Dolores,  "and  Rafael—" 

"His  heart  it  will  break — no?  To  not  see  him 
at  the  door  is  like  a  bad  omen.  She  likes  not  the 
new  Americanos'  way  of  business — to  be  gone  at 
breakfast  time  to  look  at  ships!  But  of  course  he 
is  very  good!" 

"You  are  very  good,"  replied  Dolores.  "Have 
they  sent  for  Rafael?" 

"I  will  see,"  said  Fernando,  and  went  away  mutter 
ing,  "The  so  good  Rafael!" 

"Oh!  we  have  a  thousand  things  to  ask  you, 
Raquel,"  said  Madalena.  "Could  you  have  been  a 
nun  and  been  happy  if — Rafael  had  not  found  you  ? " 

"To  work  for  Mother  Church  —  is  not  that  of 
happiness?" 

"Never   to   dance!      Never   to    hear   a   serenade! 

["4] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Never  to  watch  on  moonlight  nights  for  a  hand 
some  caballero ! " 

"I  would  as  soon  live  in  a  tomb,"  confessed 
Dolores. 

"But  if  you  had  never  seen  a  dance,  would  you 
miss  dancing  ?  My  mother's  people  were  priests ; 
she  was  to  have  been  a  nun.  My  blood  and  my 
teaching  have  been  of  the  church.  My  life  has  been 
lived  in  one  little  narrow  strip  of  the  world.  All  at 
once  the  world  changed.  Sometimes  it  bewilders  me, 
this  change.  You  say  '  happy,'  but  I  don't  think 
I  know  that  word  as  you  know  it.  Maybe  I  never 
shall  learn  it — who  knows?  But  I  can  find  work  for 
the  Church  even  here  in  the  world,  and  you  will  all 
be  my  good  friends,  and — I  shall  be  content." 

Dona  Luisa  had  entered  the  room  while  she  was 
speaking,  and  nodded  her  approval. 

"Content?  You  will  be  happy,  my  child;  you  will 
be  with  Rafael!  Have  you  seen  the  chest  of  the 
donas?  Is  it  not  handsome?  If  we  only  had  the 
key!" 

"There  is  a  little  silver  key  on  the  shrine,"  said 
Dolores,  and  ran  to  get  it. 

"Aha!  On  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin!"  said  Dona 
Luisa.  "Is  that  not  love,  Raquelita?" 

"I  am  willing  to  believe  it,"  she  said,  and  took  the 


I3W 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

little  key,  only  to  hand  it  back  to  Dolores.     "You 
open  it — and  may  you  be  the  next  happy  bride!" 

Dolores  rushed  to  unlock  the  chest,  and  Madalena 
to  lift  the  lid,  and  Ana,  as  well  as  the  older  women, 
exclaimed  at  the  richness  of  the  contents. 

"Ai!  Raquel  Estevan,  thou  happy  one!"  cried 
Ana;  "you  have  more  luck  than  a  queen!" 

They  pulled  out  embroideries  and  laces  and  jewels, 
with  little  shrieks  of  ecstasy  at  the  beauty  and  fineness 
of  them.  Raquel  looked  on,  smiling  at  their  delight. 

"Aha!  is  not  that  a  lover,  Raquelita?"  repeated 
Dona  Luisa.  "Bring  me  the  mantillas.  Those  two 
are  for  the  bridesmaids;  see  how  they  look  on 
Madalena  and  Dolores — fine — fine!  And  here  is  the 
wedding-veil — and  the  shoes,  and  the  rosary — not 
anything  is  forgotten!  He  is  so  dear,  so  good — my 
Rafael!" 

The  girls  insisted  on  placing  the  wreath  and  veil 
on  Raquel's  head,  but  she  broke  from  them  at  sight 
of  a  silken  scarf  of  green  and  red  and  white. 

"Ah!  more  than  all  the  jewels!"  she  cried,  and 
clasped  it  to  her  bosom.  "The  flag  of  my  own 
Mexico!  I  will  love  him  for  that — I  will  love  him 
with  all  my  heart!" 

"Ah!  thou  hast  said  it  at  last,"  said  Dona  Luisa, 
in  triumph;  "never  forget  thou  hast  said  it!" 

[i  1 6] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"When  I  say  it,"  whispered  Dolores  to  Ana,  "it 
will  be  to  the  man,  not  to  his  mother." 

"Come  to  me,  daughter,"  said  Dona  Luisa,  sinking 
back  into  a  chair.  "The  heart  feels — feels  almost 
too  happy!  My  deal  Raquel — my  dear  Rafael!" 

"The  Americanos  will  be  crazy  to  see  this  wedding 
in  the  old  California  fashion,"  said  Madalena,  adjust 
ing  Raquel's  veil  caressingly.  "Senora  Bryton  would 
give  her  two  ears — ouch!  Dona  Ana, you  break  my 
arm!" 

"Give  thanks  it  is  not  your  neck,  babbler!"  mut 
tered  Ana.  Dona  Luisa  looked  at  the  two  intently 
a  moment. 

"Who  is  the  American  sefiora  of  the  two  ears?" 
she  inquired;  "and  why  should  the  wedding  of  my 
son  have  interest  for  such — persons?" 

"She — she  was  a  cousin  of  Don  Eduardo,  and  now 
she  is  married  again — and  she  visits  us,  and  her 
husband  is  some  kind  of  engineer  to  make  railroads, 
and  mines,  and — " 

A  pinch  from  Dolores  stopped  her  this  time,  but  it 
was  very  clumsily  done,  Dona  Luisa  saw  it. 

"Ah,"  she  said,  quietly;  "and  when  is  he  to  bring 
the  railroad  of  the  Americanos  to  the  Californias,  eh  ? " 

The  women  and  girls  stared  at  each  other. 

"I — I   cannot  tell  her,"  murmured    Madalena  to 

["7] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

Jacoba;  "you  speak!  Of  course  it  is  not  Dofia 
Angela's  husband  who  does  it,  but — the  railroad  does 
come — so  they  say." 

"Why  do  you  whisper,  and  not  speak  aloud?" 
demanded  Dona  Luisa,  putting  aside  the  hand  of 
Raquel,  who  tried  to  quiet  her  rising  resentment. 
"Is  there  not  anyone  here  to  speak  plainly,  and  the 
truth?  What  is  it  you  try  to  hide  from  me?" 

"Oh,  Luisa,"  begged  Jacoba,  tearfully,  "do  not 
make  of  this  a  thing  to  trouble  you!  No  one  tries 
really  to  hide  things;  it  is  not  here  the  railroad  is  to 
be  first;  it  is  only  talk;  it  may  never  happen  —  it 
may — ' 

"Where?"  demanded  Dofia  Luisa.  And  Jacoba, 
with  tears  in  her  eyes,  confessed  having  heard  of  the 
impertinence  of  the  Americanos,  who  meant  to 
build  a  new  road  of  their  own  instead  of  the  wagon 
trail  to  San  Antonio. 

"That  was  good  enough  for  our  fathers.  What  is 
now  wrong  with  the  San  Antonio  road?" 

"Not  anything,  of  course;  but  the  government — " 

"Ah  ha!"  and  the  old  voice  lifted  to  a  shrill  note 
of  triumph  in  having  at  last  found  the  key  of  the 
question.  "The  American  government!  I  thought 
that  would  be  it.  What  new  crime  do  they  plan 
against  the  Californias  ?  This  it  is  to  grow  old  and 

[i  1 8] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

lame —  they  would  hide  it  from  me!  Speak,  and  tell 
me  all !  Does  the  fine  new  government  want  my 
home  to  quarter  their  pigs  of  soldiers  in,  as  they  did 
in  the  Mission  in  other  days  ?  And  would  my 
friends  have  hidden  it  from  me  until  these  upstarts 
were  across  my  door?  " 

"Luisa —  chulita  —  you  were  not  well.  Rafael  said 
you  were  not  to  be  told;  but  since  you  think  we  mean 
to  speak  falsely,  or  deceive  you  —  " 

"Where  is  it  to  come  ?  How  near?"  Dona  Luisa 
was  not  to  be  led  an  iota  from  the  main  question. 
But  at  her  demand,  Jacoba  tried  to  speak,  and  failed, 
and  could  only  weep  noisily  at  the  hardness  in  her  old 
cousin's  tones. 

"Why  do  you  make  Aunt  Jacoba  weep  like  that?" 
demanded  Ana,  resentfully.  "  What  has  she  to  do 
with  the  railroads  —  she  or  her  family  ?  Your  good 
Rafael  does  more  to  bring  them  than  any  one  else. 
He  sells  them  land;  he  and  Don  Eduardo  help  them 
to  get  the  rights  to  go  where  they  please.  Aunt 
Jacoba  would  not  do  that ;  her  father  and  her  hus 
band  would  be  burned  at  the  stake  before  they  would 
help  these  new  people  to  use  the  graves  of  the  holy 
fathers  at  San  Gabriel  as  a  road-bed  ! " 

"  Mother  of  God  !  " 

Dofta    Luisa    arose,    as  though    to   annihilate   the 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

daring  speaker;  but  Raquel  caught  her  and  she  sank 
back  in  her  chair  with  one  tremulous  hand  extended 
to  the  frightened  Ana. 

"  Go  on  !  "  she  said,  hoarsely.  "  Go  on  !  Perjure 
thy  soul  with  lies,  since  thou  lovest  them  so, — lies 
against  a  son  of  Mother  Church.  Go  on !  " 

Ana  shrank,  and  faltered,  but  the  accusation 
brought  back  her  courage. 

"If  the  truth  is  shameful,  the  shame  is  not  mine," 
she  retorted.  "Through  two  of  the  Arteaga  ranches 
in  the  north  has  Rafael  sold  the  right  of  way  for  the 
American  railroad  to  Monterey.  That  it  might  come 
closer  to  his  ranch-houses,  he  has  let  it  be  built  across 
the  forgotten  graves  of  the  Mission  fathers.  Beneath 
the  feet  of  the  Americanos  will  lie  the  holy  apostles 
of  our  Mother  Church!  The  Protestant  heretics  will 
wheel  their  pigs  to  market  across  the  gardens  where 
Ava  Marias  have  sounded  all  the  years  of  religion  in 
California ! " 

Dona  Luisa  stared  at  her  with  white  face,  and  her 
lips  moved  stiffly  when  she  tried  to  speak.  The 
other  women  and  girls  were  clinging  together  in  tears, 
and  Raquel  stood  with  her  strong  young  arms  about 
her,  as  though  to  guard  her  against  the  world. 

Bryton,  who  had  strolled  back  through  the  patio 
for  a  final  word  with  Rafael,  had  heard  nothing  of  the 

[120] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF 

arrivals ;  he  pushed  open  the  door  at  the  back,  and 
then  halted  at  the  sight  of  the  group  there, —  the 
women  and  girls  frightened  and  weeping,  the  scattered 
wealth  of  silks  and  laces  flung  across  chairs  and  tables, 
and  the  three  girls  with  bride-like  veils. 

"Is  it  —  a  witchcraft?"  half  whispered  Dona  Luisa 
at  last ;  but  the  whisper  was  plainly  heard  above  the 
sobs  of  the  girls,  who  scarcely  dared  to  breathe.  "It 
is  a  work  of  the  fiends  to  snare  his  soul  for  hell 
Immaculate  Mother,  let  it  not  be  !" 

Raquel  bent  above  her  with  murmured  assurances 
of  divine  help,  and  the  old  woman  suddenly  caught 
the  hands  of  the  girl  in  her  own  and  held  her,  staring 
in  her  face  with  questioning  eyes ;  then  she  spoke 
eagerly,  fiercely. 

"Your  wish  but  a  moment  ago !  You  wished  for 
some  great  work  for  Mother  Church  —  to  fight  evil 
out  in  the  world ;  your  guardian  angel  heard  the  wish 
and  has  sent  you  a  soul  to  save  from  the  heretics, — 
the  soul  of  the  man  you  love  !  " 

Raquel  stared  at  her,  but  did  not  speak.  Her  eyes 
looked  a  bit  frightened,  but  she  rested  her  cheek  on 
the  frail  old  hands,  and  caressed  them  reassuringly. 

Dona  Luisa  lifted  the  gold  and  ebony  crucifix, 
and  held  it  above  her  head. 

"  Kneel !  "   she  said  ;  and  the  girls  and  women  did 


F 

or 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


50.  Bryton,  in  the  doorway,  caught  sight  of  the  girl 
in  the  bride's  veil,  and  made  a  movement  toward  her, 
but  was  checked  by  the  voice  of  the  mother. 

"  It  is  for  the  soul  of  the  man  you  love,  Raquel 
mia.  Never  forget  that  —  never  forget !  " 

"I  will  not  forget,"  said  the  girl,  gently ;  and  at  the 
sound  of  the  voice  Keith  Bry ton's  jaw  set  in  a  tense, 
ugly  way,  and  he  stepped  back  into  the  shadow. 

"Then  swear  by  the  Holy  Mother  of  God!  "  said 
the  old  voice,  and  the  crucifix  above  the  head  of  the 
kneeling  girl  was  held  rigidly  steady. 

"I  swear  by  the  Holy  Mother  of  God ! " 

"  Swear  by  the  blood  of  Christ  crucified !  " 

"  I  swear  by  the  blood  of  Christ  crucified  !  " 

"  To  stand  as  a  guard  over  the  soul  of  Rafael !  " 
The  old  voice  had  a  faintness,  despite  the  steady 
words ;  the  end  of  her  strength  had  come. 

The  eyes  of  Raquel  widened  ever  so  little  as  she 
realized  what  she  was  promising.  There  was  an 
involuntary  pause  before  she  spoke  again,  and  then 
the  absolute  despair  of  the  mother,  and  her  one  hope, 
swept  over  the  the  girl's  consciousness,  and  a  spark 
of  the  martyr  fire  lit  her  own  soul. 

"To  stand  as  guard  over  the  soul  of  Rafael," 
said  she,  steadily. 

"So  long  as  you  both  shall  live !" 
[122] 


?     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"So  long  as  —  we  both  —  shall  —  live." 

Then  the  crucifix  fell  to  the  tiled  floor,  and  the 
old  face  looked  very  gray,  as  she  sank  back  on  the 
chair;  and  Jacoba  smothered  a  shriek  at  sight  of 
her  eyes ;  and  Raquel,  still  on  her  knees,  clasped  her 
about  the  waist  and  whispered: 

"  Dona  Luisa,  Dona  Luisa !  " 

The  staring  eyes  regained  a  momentary  glimmer  of 
consciousness  at  the  sound  of  the  girl's  voice,  and  she 
lifted  her  hand  again  as  though  it  still  held  the  crucifix. 

"Until  —  the  day  —  of—  "  and  then  the  sentence 
trailed  along  into  the  eternal  silences  of  the  unseen 
land. 

"Senora!"  called  Raquel,  appealingly;  but  Ana 
caught  her  by  the  shoulder  and  looked  in  her  face, 
and  said: 

"God  help  you,  Raquel  Estevan!  To  the  record 
ing  angel  she  has  taken  that  oath." 

Keith  Bryton  closed  the  door  on  the  weeping 
women,  and  walked  out  through  the  old  refectory  to 
the  inner  court,  where  he  met  Fernando. 

"What  is  it,  senor?"  he  asked.  Bryton  looked  at 
him  much  as  though  he  had  not  been  there. 

"I  —  I  scarcely  know,"  he  said,  dully.  "You  had 
better—" 


i  % 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"But  you  have  the  face  of  a  ghost!"  interrupted 
Fernando.  "Something  has  happened — in  there?" 

"I  think  so,"  agreed  the  American,  recovering  under 
Fernando's  curious  gaze.  "Some  one  is  ill — or — " 

Fernando  ran  past  him,  and  Bryton  walked  slowly 
along  the  inner  court  to  where  the  one-time  baptistry 
lay  roofless  to  the  sky.  Through  an  old  doorway 
with  the  Aztec  sun  cut  in  the  coping,  he  passed 
into  the  old  graveyard  of  the  padres,  and  thence  to 
the  great  altar-place  of  the  old  earthquake  ruin. 
Even  there  the  cries  of  the  girls  came  to  him  through 
an  open  window — a  wailing  chorus  of  tragedy.  Then 
an  old  Indian  untied  the  ropes  of  the  belfry,  and 
the  toll  of  death  sounded  along  the  valley.  But 
it  seemed  very  far  away.  He  stared  at  the  half- 
pagan  decorations  of  the  old  stonework — never  the 
cross  of  Christ  anywhere  on  them — and  sat  so  still 
that  two  linnets  lit  almost  at  his  feet  and  were  not 
afraid. 

"I  wondered  why  I  should  stray  back  to  this  little 
corner  of  the  world,"  he  said  at  last,  "and  now — 
now  I  reckon  I  'm  finding  out.  God!  I  feel  like  a 
bad  dream.  And  my  hands  tied!" 

He  paced  back  and  forth  on  the  old  altar-place, 
until  the  mad  clatter  of  hoofs  coming  from  the  sea 
cut  across  the  tolling  of  the  bells  and  told  him  the 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

lost  bridegroom — the  man  she  said  she  loved  and 
would  never  forget — had  been  found. 

He  swore  softly  as  he  crossed  the  plaza  to  the 
veranda  of  Juan  Alvara.  The  old  man,  rolling  his 
first  cigarro  of  the  day,  was  sitting  there  on  the  bench 
in  the  early  sunlight. 

"Don  Juan,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand, 
"I  ride  to  catch  up  with  the  officers  and  go  with 
them  into  the  Indian  country,  and  I  may  not  see 
San  Juan  again  for  a  long  time.  Your  home  has 
always  been  a  pleasant  place,  and  I  thank  you  for 
many  courtesies." 

The  old  man  shook  his  hand  gravely. 

"Adios!    You  come  back  to  San  Juan — no?" 

"Perhaps  not,"  said  Bryton.  "If  there  is  any 
thing  I  can  do  for  you  in  Los  Angeles — " 

"Thanks,  senor;  there  is  nothing.  My  daughters 
go  there  in  a  week  with  the  wedding  party.  For 
whom  think  you  old  Tomas  tolls  the  bell  ?" 

When  informed,  he  stared  vaguely  at  the  Americano. 
Alvara  was  growing  old.  Teresa  had  warned  them 
all  that  no  one  should  tell  him  until  his  breakfast 
was  over  and  he  had  had  his  smoke. 

"Luisa!  the  Dona  Luisa!  Dead,  you  say? — before 
the  wedding-day?  No,  senor,  pardon,  but  you  have 
not  understood.  I  know  Luisa  Arteaga  when  she  is 

E«»£l 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

still  a  little  girl — and  always.  She  not  dying  before 
she  have  marry  the  boy  like  she  want." 

Still,  his  hand  trembled  as  he  reached  for  his  cane. 
Across  the  plaza  Indians  and  Mexicans  were  moving 
toward  the  Mission.  It  was  early  for  San  Juan  to  be 
astir  in  the  street.  Old  Matia,  who  had  been  nurse 
to  Miguel  and  Rafael,  went  past,  not  seeing  the  two 
men  for  the  tears  in  her  eyes.  Yes — after  all,  there 
was  trouble — but  Dona  Luisa! 

In  his  perturbation  he  turned,  and  again  held  out 
his  hand. 

"Adios,  senor,"  he  repeated;  "but  you  coming 
back  for  sure.  To  San  Juan  all  people  coming  back 
some  time.  You  go  with  the  horses  across  the 
deserts?" 

"Yes,  I  am  going  across  the  deserts.     Adios!" 


SJDS 


El  Corazon. 


Yo     te  he  de  a  -  mar, 


te  he    de  a-  mar     has  -  ta     mu  -  er 


Y      si  pud-ic  -  ra — 


Yo    teamar-ia      des-pues. 


CHAPTER   VII 


E  had  crossed  the  ranges  twice 
and  returned,  but  the  City  of  the 
Angels  had  lost  its  old  witchery. 
The  rose-tinted  dawns,  and 
the  amethystine  dusks  were 
beautiful  as  ever,  but  to  banish 
the  memories  he  had  once 
dreamed  over  there,  he  galloped  alone  to  the  harbor 
called  "The  Hell  of  California,"  and  lay  all  one 
day  on  the  beach,  and  stared  moodily  at  the  waves 
whipping  the  yellow  sands  of  San  Pedro. 

To  the  south  there,  far  beyond  the  prosaic  stretch 
of  grazing-lands  bordered  by  the  sea,  beyond  all  the 
tame  levels  where  the  water  was  green  or  yellow  in 
the  shallows,  beyond  all  the  jutting  points,  veiled  in 
the  miles  of  mists,  he  could  follow  in  his  mind  each 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

curve,  until  the  one  valley  of  beauty  would  gleam 
like  a  green  jewel  seen  from  the  cliffs  of  San  Juan. 

And  at  the  foot  of  those  cliffs  there  were  no  flat 
stretches  of  color  such  as  make  weary  the  eye ;  the 
water  there  held  all  the  shimmering,  bewitching, 
iridescence  of  a  peacock's  feathers,  —  the  gold  and 
purple,  the  greens  and  the  blues  ever  changing, —  the 
strange  touch  of  pink  making  it  all  glorious  in  certain 
glints  of  the  sunlight;  and  at  the  edge  of  it  all,  the 
fringe  of  foam  —  a  string  of  pearls  shattered  on  the 
brown  cliffs  or  sandy  beach,  and  gathered  up  to  be 
dashed  again  and  again  and  again  —  the  endless  garni 
ture  of  old  Ocean's  robe. 

Never  on  any  other  shore  had  mere  waves,  running 
to  the  sand,  the  same  witchery.  Alvara  had  said  that 
all  men  came  back  some  day  to  San  Juan.  What 
witchery  was  it  by  which  its  mesa  and  its  valley  and 
its  wonderful  shore  were  forever  set  apart  from  other 
shores  of  California  ?  Some  mystery  of  life  brooded 
there  from  sea  to  mountain,  suggesting  so  much  which 
was  left  for  poor  humanity  to  solve;  it  was  only  a 
whispered  suggestion,  dim  and  delightful,  as  the  music 
of  the  waves  heard  from  the  Mission  plaza,  or  as  dreamy 
as  the  high  film  of  fog,  drifting  high  up  and  temper 
ing  the  sun's  rays  until  they  fell  softly  as  a  benediction 
on  the  valley  between  blue  sea  and  blue  summit. 


K- 

I 

H 

B 


CO 

K 
O 
jn 
w 


™>^3*4  .mm^masryg^^. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

His  own  life  stretched  before  him  like  the  brown 
levels  and  yellow  flatness  of  San  Pedro;  and  there  to 
the  south,  miles  across  the  ranges,  was  the  heart  of  the 
dreamland  he  must  not  enter:  another  man  had  that 
claim  under  fence.  He  gave  voice  to  some  self- 
condemnation  of  a  sort  reserved  for  men  who  go  loco 
over  a  woman  who  forgets,  and  after  hours  of  brood 
ing  there  alone  by  the  shore,  arrived  at  only  one 
decision  —  the  California  of  the  south  ranges  was  no 
longer  his  own.  All  the  width  of  it  was  now  narrowed 
to  one  little  valley,  where  the  poppies  flamed  over 
forgotten  graves  and  adobe  walls,  and  the  doves  circled 
above  a  ruined  chancel. 

He  rode  into  town,  where  some  kind  friends 
mentioned  that  Don  Rafael  Arteaga  and  his  bride 
were  being  feted  by  the  leading  Spanish  families  of 
Los  Angeles,  and  he  was  invited  to  a  dinner  in  their 
honor  a  week  hence. 

"I  go  to  Mexico — I  start  to-day,"  he  answered, 
briefly.  Ten  minutes  before,  he  had  not  thought  of  it. 

"To  Mexico?  You  cover  ground  fast  these  days, 
Don  Keith.  On  the  new  road  of  iron  they  mean  to 
make,  you  could  not  go  so  much  faster  than  on  the 
horses  you  ride ;  you  have  the  good  American  luck  in 
the  pick  of  them." 

"Yes,  the  good  American  luck!"  said  Keith  Bryton, 
[129] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

with  a  touch  of  bitterness.  "  May  your  saints  send 
you  a  better  ! " 

A  man  who  stood  near,  and  who  much  desired  the 
invitation  Bryton  had  refused,  shrugged  his  shoulders 
as  the  Americano  mounted  his  horse  and  rode  away. 

"What  better  luck  could  a  man  have,  than  a 
chance  to  meet  Dona  Raquel  Estevan  de  Arteaga?  "  he 
queried  of  any  who  might  care  to  answer.  "  The 
bishop  himself  shows  her  honor,  and  they  say  she 
is  working  for  the  Church  against  Downing,  the 
Englishman,  who  holds  the  Mission  lands  under 
Pico's  sale.  Sixteen  years  has  the  Church  fought  for 
those  lands  in  the  courts ;  if  she  gets  them  back, 
she  deserves  the  pope's  blessing.  And  the  fool  boy 
of  an  Americano  rides  south  when  he  could  meet 
her  —  perhaps  touch  her  hand  !  " 

But  the  fool  Americano  rode  south  and  kept  on  rid 
ing  south  for  many  dusty  days.  He  crossed  a  corner 
of  the  Yaqui  country,  and  then  across  the  ranges 
to  the  old  mine,  called  the  Mine  of  the  Temple  — 
the  one  of  which  he  had  told  Don  Juan  Alvara — was 
it  so  few  weeks  ago  ?  It  might  have  been  years 
instead  of  weeks,  by  his  own  feeling  and  attitude 
of  mind.  He  was  riding  back  a  different  man. 
He  evaded  the  few  Mexicans  as  he  neared  the  mine; 
no  turn  of  the  trail  was  lonely  for  him.  Memory 

[J3°] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

kept  pace,  and  the  murmur  of  one  girl's  voice  spoke 
through  the  rustling  leaves  of  the  mountains. 

A  travelling  priest,  jubilant  at  the  idea  of  comrade 
ship,  hailed  him  in  one  of  the  mountain  passes,  and 
found  him  but  a  sorry  companion. 

"  This  is  a  country,"  said  the  padre,  "  where  the 
sight  of  a  white  face  is  most  welcome.  Six  months 
since  I  was  sent  to  this  parish,  and  few  of  them 
have  I  seen.  Now,  I  ride  out  of  my  way  just  to  talk 
with  an  American  who  works  a  mine  up  here.  Your 
brother,  is  it?  Well,  he  has  a  good  name  with  the 
brown  folks.  A  lot  of  pagans  they  are !  It  is  not 
a  priest  they  need  here ;  it  is  a  missionary  the  bishop 
should  send  to  teach  them  their  religion  anew. 
If  ever  they  had  any,  it  has  been  lost." 

But  it  was  evidently  the  opinion  of  the  padre 
that  they  had  never  really  secured  any  to  lose. 
He  discoursed  at  some  length  on  the  failure  of  the 
Church  to  impress  upon  them  the  advantage  of  mar 
riage.  Few  were  the  wedding  fees  to  be  obtained 
from  the  Mexicans,  while  the  heathen  Indians  had 
some  form  of  their  own,  arranged  by  the  head  of  their 
clan,  and  it  was  a  disgrace  to  a  land  held  under  cross 
and  crown  for  two  centuries  —  an  endless  shame ! 

Keith  assented,  without  heeding  the  list  of  Indian 
iniquities.  He  was  rather  glad,  after  all,  that  Teddy 


ft 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

had  a  civilized  neighbor,  willing  to  be  companionable. 
Teddy  liked  people  too  well  to  exile  himself  from 
them  but  for  the  one  thing  —  to  go  back  north, 
able  to  cover  one  white  throat  with  pearls,  or  two 
white  hands  with  diamonds. 

His  greeting  of  his  half-brother  was  a  bit  shy, 
though  wholly  glad,  and  the  padre  served  to  bridge 
over  the  first  few  awkward  moments.  Both  men 
recognized  the  fact  of  a  change  in  each  since  the 
Los  Angeles  days.  Teddy  thought  it  due  only  to  his 
clandestine  marriage,  and  Keith  felt  guilty  as  he 
realized  how  little,  how  very  little,  Teddy's  marriage 
meant  to  him  now.  While  the  padre  was  getting 
acquainted  with  the  Mexican,  the  two  brothers  walked 
apart,  and  talked  of  the  chances  of  the  mine's  success, 
and  the  failure  of  the  backers  to  see  the  necessity  of 
using  money  more  freely  on  the  enterprise. 

"It's  there,  you  know,"  insisted  Teddy;  "all  this 
district  is  flooded  with  stories  of  the  ore  taken  out  of 
it  in  the  first  days  of  the  Spaniards;  then  the  Indians 
descended  upon  them,  and  there  was  a  slaughter,  and 
no  Spaniard  dared  venture  into  these  hills  for  a 
century." 

"Yes.  We  put  in  a  good  many  fruitless  days 
trailing  those  old  legends,"  assented  Keith,  "  but 
only  the  Indian  superstition  tends  to  show  that  this 


.^^1 

13 


IFOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 
. 
is  the  real  mine  of  that  history.     The  rich  one  may 

not  have  been  on  this  side  of  the  mountain,  since  you 
have  not  yet  struck  the  lode." 

"Don't  let's  talk  about  it,  if  you  feel  that  way," 
suggested  Teddy,  "I  hear  plenty  of  that  from  the 
others;  and  you  didn't  really  come  all  the  way  down 
here  to  talk  mines.  Say,  old  chap,  you  acted  like 
a  prince  over  the  —  well,  the  wedding.  I  felt  pretty 
nearly  three  inches  higher  when  I  got  your  letter.  I — I 
know  I  acted  like  a  kid,  but  Angela  wanted  it  arranged 
so;  and  —  as  she  about  filled  the  whole  horizon  —  " 

"Cut  out  the  explanation,  Teddy.  A  man  is  never 
sure  of  himself  until  the  right  woman  crosses  his 
trail — or  the  wrong  one.  God  knows  I  'm  not  fit  for 
alcalde  in  the  case.  At  least,  you  married  your  wife." 

Teddy  stared  at  him  an  instant,  and  then  shouted 
with  laughter. 

"Married  my  wife?  Well,  rather!  How  else 
could  she  be  my  wife  ?" 

Keith  avoided  the  frank  boyish  blue  eyes  of 
Teddy,  and  turned  away,  seating  himself  on  a  great 
bowlder  and  staring  across  the  little  semicircle  of  the 
canon  basin,  to  where  gnarled  century-old  trees  reached 
grotesque  arms  above  some  old  stone  ruins  and  frag 
ments  of  marble.  Teddy  looked  at  him  an  instant, 
and  then  whistled  softly. 

['33] 


irx^e 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"If  it  were  any  other  man  than  you,  Keith,  I'd 
think — but  it's  too  ridiculous!" 

"Say  it,"  suggested  Keith. 

"Well,  I  'd  say  the  wrong  woman  had  crossed  your 
trail." 

"Not  the  wrong  one." 

"Good  Lord!  you  don't  mean  that  by  any  chance 
it  is  at  last  the  right  one  ?" 

"At  last  —  the  right  woman." 

"And  you  sit  there  looking  as  solemn  over  it  as 
a  wooden  Mexican  god!  Wake  up,  old  fellow,  and 
tell  about  her." 

"There  is  nothing  to  tell.  She  is  the  right  woman, 
and  I  shall  never  see  her  again." 

"Keith!" 

"And  I  Ve  come  back  here  to  tell  myself  so," 
continued  Keith,  doggedly;  "to  say  it  over  and  over, 
and  beat  it  into  my  brain,  if  I  have  any  left.  The 
desert  didn't  help  me — I  thought  this  might." 

"This?" 

"These  hills,  and  —  speaking  of  it." 

His  brother  said  nothing,  only  looked  at  him  in 
wonder,  as  he  rose  with  hands  thrust  in  pockets 
and  walked  the  length  of  the  little  terrace  formed 
by  the  refuse  of  the  mine.  The  two  brothers  had 
changed  places.  It  was  now  Keith,  the  cool,  the 

[-34] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

indifferent,  who  had  crossed  some  line  of  emotional 
experience  where  speech  was  a  relief — Keith,  of  all 
men!  Teddy  wondered  who  the  woman  could  be; 
she  would  be  worth  seeing. 

"So  you  see,  Ted,"  observed  the  other,  with  a 
forced  laugh,  "you  need  not  explain  things  to  me. 
When  the  woman  comes,  none  of  us  cares  much 
what  the  other  fellow  thinks." 

"If  she  is  the  right  woman,  I'm  mighty  sorry,  old 
man,  that  it 's  going  to  be  as  you  say — that  you  are 
not  going  to  see  her  again." 

"  Don't  waste  good  sorrow !  I  'm  the  only  fool  in 
the  case  —  she  doesn't  care." 

"That's  not  so  easy  to  believe,"  declared  Teddy, 
loyally.  "You  probably  only  asked  her  once,  and 
then  hit  the  trail  before  she  could  change  her  mind." 

"Ask  her.  When  people  care,  words  are  not  so 
necessary." 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  girls  do  expect  words ;  though 
the  right  girl  —  " 

"She  doesn't  know  that  she  was  the  right  girl;  I 
may  not  have  made  it  clear.  I  was  a  fool  who 
dreamed  dreams  and  believed  them  true.  Talking 
about  it  doesn't  help.  I  thought  it  might;  that's  all." 

He  continued  to  walk  the  terrace,  as  though  with  a 
certain  impatience  at  having  let  go  of  himself.  Teddy 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

regarded  him  for  a  few  moments  of  awkward  silence. 
Keith  had  never  been  demonstrative,  and  this  sudden 
confidence  caught  Teddy  unprepared.  He  felt  ill  at 
ease,  realizing  that  it  was  no  light  sentiment,  causing 
him  to  let  go  of  himself  and  speak. 

"I  reckon  this  particular  mountain  must  be  be 
witched,"  he  said  at  last.  "The  only  other  time  you 
talked  of  a  girl  —  any  special  girl  —  was  after  we  were 
led  across  yon  range  by  that  girl  of  the  convent. 
Even  then  you  talked  of  her  only  when  the  knock  on 
your  head  sent  you  luny.  What  was  the  name  they 
called  her?  Spirit — Dofia  Spirit —  Dofta  Espiritu! 
That  is  it !  I  really  thought  for  a  few  days  of  your 
ravings  that  we  were  going  to  have  a  nun  in  the  fam 
ily ;  and  now  it's  a  new  girl!" 

Keith  regarded  him  for  a  moment,  then  in  silence 
took  out  tobacco  and  made  a  cigarette.  Of  what  use 
were  words? 

"I  always  wondered  who  that  girl  was  and  what 
became  of  her,"  continued  Teddy.  "The  old  padre 
was  as  dumb  as  an  oyster  on  the  subject.  Did  you 
learn  more  than  her  name  ? " 

"Not  much,"  said  Keith,  briefly. 

"I  always  meant  to.  Funny  how  those  crack- 
brained  Indians  let  up  on  the  attack  that  night,  when 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

hand  for  them  to  see.  It  was  the  last  thing  I  noted 
before  I  keeled  over.  Those  Indians  have  not  for 
gotten  that.  They  knew  when  I  came  back  here,  and 
they  seemed  to  watch  either  the  mine  or  me, —  I  don't 
know  which  it  is.  Once  they  asked  an  old  Mexican 
for  you;  he  speaks  their  lingo.  They  described  you 
as  'the  man  of  the  ring.' ' 

"That's  queer." 

"  Did  the  girl  tell  you  what  the  ring  meant  ?  " 

"  Meant  ? "  repeated  Keith,  questioningly. 

"Yes.  To  the  tribe,  it  means  more  than  a  mere 
ring.  The  old  Mexican  gathered  that  much.  It  had 
something  the  significance  of  a  sceptre,  and  was  worn 
only  by  one  of  the  rulers  in  the  old  days.  When  that 
girl  put  it  on  your  finger,  the  tribe  thought  it  meant 
that  she  had  picked  you  out  for  marriage.  She  didn't 
tell  you?" 

"No,  she  didn't  tell  me." 

"Well,  it's  all  that  saved  our  lives  that  night.  You 
know  the  old  padre  is  dead.  It  was  he  did  the  sleight- 
of-hand  work  in  getting  the  girl  out  of  sight  before 
you  got  on  your  feet  again.  With  some  threat  of 
eternal  flames,  he  shut  the  lips  of  every  Mexican  I 
tried  to  bribe  to  find  her." 

Keith  took  the  cigarette  from  his  lips,  and  looked 
at  him  without  speaking.  Teddy  smiled  and  nodded. 

['37] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Yes,  I  looked  for  her  without  your  knowing  it. 
You  came  nearer  going  '  over  the  range '  in  that 
fever  than  you  ever  realized.  The  English  doctor 
down  there  asked  me  who  the  devil  f  Espiritu '  was, 
and  said  that  she  could  probably  do  more  to  lower 
your  temperature  than  his  drugs.  I  tried  to  locate 
her,  as  soon  as  I  could  hobble  on  a  crutch,  but  it  was 
no  use.  The  padre  said  she  had  taken  the  black  veil : 
that  shut  us  out." 

"Yes,  of  course,"  assented  Keith,  absently. 

"  You  never  mentioned  her  name  after  you  got  on 
your  feet,  so  I  figured  that  it  did  not  really  mean 
anything.  Girls  never  did  mean  much  to  you,  indi 
vidually,  Keith, —  until  now." 

"  Until  now.'' 

"And  now  it's  no  use,  since  you  can't  see  her 
again." 

Keith  puffed  away  in  thoughtful  silence  before 
he  spoke. 

"Perhaps  not.  Yet  —  quien  sabe?  A  sentiment 
may  be  like  a  sunrise,  lifting  clouds  for  you  and  mak 
ing  you  see  things  —  things  within  yourself  you  never 
suspected  were  there.  Our  trail  in  these  hills  followed 
the  light  of  the  morning  star  once,  and  we  got  out 
of  the  wilderness  to  safety :  that  star  has  meant 
something  to  me  ever  since.  J  can't  possess  it> 

C'3»] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 


but  the 


of  it 


mine. 


I 


meaning 

self  to  the  right  woman," — and  -he  held  out  his  hand 
and  looked  at  it, —  "  but  no  conventions  of  the  world, 
no  man-made  walls  can  prevent  the  thought  of  me 
from  going  to  her  —  the  thought  which,  after  all, 
is  the  real  me.  When  that  is  so,  who  can  say  that 
even  an  unknown  love  has  not  its  own  uses?  It  may 
prove  the  illumination  of  a  whole  lifetime." 

Teddy,  with  wonder  in  his  eyes,  laid  his  hand  on  his 
brother's  shoulder.  "  Old  man,  that  kind  of  feeling  is 
beyond  me.  I  want  my  girl  with  me,  and  I  want  her 
mighty  bad.  I  've  lived  beside  you  all  my  life,  and 
never  dreamed  it  was  in  you  to  care  like  that  for  any 
woman.  It  only  shows  how  little  we  know,  after  all." 

"Yes;  how  little,  after  all,  until  the  right  woman 
crosses  the  trail." 

"  The  chances  are  that  we  can  never  talk  of  it  again. 
I  know  you  that  much !  I  told  you  this  old  hill 
of  the  temple  was  uncanny  —  bewitched,  —  and  it  is. 
You  never  would  have  mentioned  this  to  me  in 
civilized  places." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  agreed  Keith.  And  you  're 
right  —  I  could  never  speak  of  it  again." 

They  never  did.  That  night  they  talked  only 
of  Teddy's  enterprise,  and  covered  much  paper  with 
many  figures,  and  made  fine  plans  for  the  future. 

t'39] 


ffi 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

The  next  day  it  was  that  Keith,  hunting  in  the 
hills,  heard  an  unusual  blast  from  the  mine,  felt 
the  ground  tremble  from  the  shock,  and  turning 
back  on  the  trail,  met  a  Mexican  with  a  bleeding 
hand  and  a  cut  face,  who  urged  him  to  hasten.  It 
was  the  word  of  the  padre ! 

He  reached  Teddy's  side  only  in  time  to  accept 
"Angela  —  poor  little  Angela  — "  as  a  life-long 
legacy.  There  had  been  an  explosion.  Graves  were 
made  for  the  young  engineer  and  three  of  his  Mex 
ican  miners  on  the  side  of  the  mountain.  When 
it  was  all  over,  Keith  Bryton  climbed  to  the  heights 
above,  where  the  broken  walls  of  stone  showed  white 
and  gray  among  forest  growth  on  the  temple  terrace. 
Below,  and  beyond  the  ranges,  lay  the  world.  In 
his  isolation  of  grief,  he  felt  as  alone  as  the  solitary 
mountain  rising  from  the  plain  below,  through  which 
a  river  ran.  Far  down  the  river,  miles  away,  gleamed 
a  cross  on  the  chapel  of  a  convent.  It  was  the  old 
Mexican  pueblo  of  which  he  had  told  Alvara.  He 
remembered  saying  to  the  old  man  that  he  would 
never  come  back;  yet  here  he  was.  How  useless 
to  say  what  one  will  or  will  not  do  in  this  world ! 
One  must  make  allowance  for  the  moves  fate  insists 
upon  in  the  game  of  life. 

Back  of  him,  on   a   slight  elevation,    stood    some 

[HO] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

broken  columns,  and  half  an  arch  yet  showed  where 
an  entrance  had  been,  and  under  a  dwarfed  and 
twisted  oak  half  covered  with  tropical  vines  a  bench 
of  marble  gleamed.  Two  birds  fluttered  to  the 
ground  near  him  and  turned  inquisitive  eyes  on  the 
intruder.  He  watched  them  carelessly,  until  one  of 
them  perched  on  a  fallen  block  of  stone  ornamented 
with  the  sculptured  sun  of  the  Aztecs.  It  brought 
back  like  a  flash  that  other  day  when  he  went  from 
the  presence  of  death  to  a  ruined  altar-place,  where 
the  Aztec  sun  and  the  cactus  commemorated  some 
unknown  Mexican  sculptor  who  cut  the  symbol 
of  the  faith  of  his  people  into  the  walls  of  a  Chris 
tian  church. 

He  closed  his  eyes,  and  the  vision  of  that  other  day 
was  only  intensified.  The  wind  in  the  oaks  back  of 
him  sounded  like  the  surf  on  San  Juan's  beach ;  and 
through  it  the  slow,  fateful  words  of  a  girl  kneeling 
in  her  wedding-veil  echoed  in  his  ears  as  it  had  done 
a  thousand  times: 

"So  long  —  as  —  we  —  both  —  shall  live!" 
There  were  no  weeping  girls  here,  and  no  bells 
to  toll  out  the  death  message;  but  otherwise  the 
atmosphere  of  the  place,  and  the  illusion,  were 
perfect.  How — how  had  he  chanced  to  enter  into 
this  half-pagan  atmosphere  of  death?  Unconsciously, 

['40 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

automatically,  he  turned  and  re-turned  on  his  finger 
the  onyx  ring  at  which  Angela  had  laughed. 

He  was  still  seated  there  when  the  miners  who  had 
rilled  the  graves  came  up  the  path,  and  with  them 
the  priest  from  the  plains  below.  The  Mexicans 
halted  outside  the  broken  walls.  Only  one  Indian, 
who  had  followed  at  a  distance,  crossed  the  line  of 
entrance,  and  stood  apart,  watching  and  listening 
in  a  furtive  way  —  watching  the  American  especially. 

"  Many  times  I  have  heard  of  this  place,"  said  the 
priest,  "  but  never  before  have  I  been  so  far  into  the 
mountain.  There  are  strange  old  traditions  of  it  in 
the  accounts  some  of  the  early  padres  left.  Their 
king  or  chief  became  Christian  and  gave  his  sons  to 
the  Church,  but  the  main  body  of  the  people  kept  to 
many  of  their  pagan  rites.  And  this  was  their  temple. 
The  men  ask  me  if  you  continue  with  the  mining, 
seftor." 

He  noticed  they  all  listened  for  the  answer,  and 
looked  relieved  when  he  said,  "  No." 

"They  are  all  very  glad,  senor.  They  ask  me  to 
tell  you  they  have  no  ill  will,  but  they  say  not  any  of 
their  men  will  go  into  the  mine  of  the  temple." 

"  Some  superstition  ?  " 

"  It  seems  so.  They  say  one  man  always  dies 
when  outsiders  meddle  with  the  mountain,  but  never 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


before  have  three 


men 
company  know 


died  at  once.     They  ask  you 
that   none   of  them  will 


to  let  the 
come  back." 

"  Very  good,"  and  Bryton  arose  and  picked  up  the 
sombrero  he  had  dropped  beside  him.  "  I  will  tell 
them  to  bring  foreigners  if  they  mean  to  keep  on ;  but 
I  doubt  it.  The  cave-in  down  there  means  a  fortune 
to  dig  out.  I  don't  think  they  have  the  capital." 

He  was  turning  away,  when  he  noticed  the  Indian. 

w  Is  he  a  workman  ? " 

The  others  exchanged  glances,  and  then  one  of 
them  stepped  forward. 

"  No,  senor.  He  is  one  of  the  mountain  people. 
No  one  knows  where  they  live.  I  know  a  little  of 
their  talk.  He  says  for  us  all  to  go  away,  or  worse 
things  will  always  happen.  He — he  wants  to  speak 
to  you." 

«  Well  ? " 

The  man  hesitated,  and  then  said  a  few  words, 
and  the  Indian  replied  in  a  strange  jargon  with  pe 
culiar  aspirated  syllables. 

"  He  says,"  continued  the  interpreter,  hesitatingly, 
"  to  ask  if  she  is  to  come  back." 

"  She  ? " 

Bryton's  face  flushed,  as  the  priest  looked  at  him 
curiously. 

L'43'J 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  You  have  known  those  people  before  ?  " 

"I  —  my  brother  and  I  were  lost  once  in  the  forest 
here.  We  —  well,  we  were  made  to  feel  we  had  tres 
passed  ;  but  some  one — a  sort  of  missionary  among 
them — made  them  lead  us  to  the  plain.  It  would  have 
been  better  if  my  brother  had  never  come  back." 

"And  —  ?" 

The  priest  noticed  Bryton's  hesitation ;  so  did  the 
Indian,  for  he  walked  direct  to  him,  and  pointed 
to  the  ring  he  wore,  and  looked  from  the  ring  to 
Bryton's  face. 

"  Tell  him,"  said  the  American,  "  that  she  is  a 
man's  wife,  and  lives  in  a  lovely  land." 

"You  see  her  —  some  day  ?  "  asked  the  Indian. 

"No  —  not  ever  again  —  perhaps." 

The  Indian  bent  his  head,  and  with  a  slight 
gesture  as  of  farewell,  turned  and  walked  swiftly 
away  from  them,  around  the  bend  of  the  mountain. 

"Your  words  have  an  unusual  interest,"  said  the 
priest,  as  they  walked  down  toward  the  plain.  "  They 
suggest  that  the  missionary  might  be  the  one  they 
spoke  of  here  as  the  Indian  nun." 

"  This  lady  was  not  Indian,"  said  Keith,  decidedly. 
"  Her  skin  was  whiter  than  either  yours  or  mine. 
The  Indians  called  her  Dona  Espiritu  !  It  was  the 
only  name  they  knew  her  by." 

['44] 


THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

"It  was  the  same,  and  her  father's  name  was 
Estevan,"  said  the  priest,  quietly. 

"Yes,  I  know  now.  His  name  was  Estevan, 
but  —  " 

"  And  he  was  the  man  who  died  the  awful  death 
up  there."  And  he  pointed  back  to  the  temple. 

"  No ! "  Bryton  stopped  on  the  path  and  faced 
the  priest,  thus  halting  the  entire  procession  at  a 
point  where  a  yawning  gulf  of  a  cafton  reached  to 
unseen  depths  below. 

"For  the  love  of  Christ  —  seftor ! "  screamed  the 
priest,  while  the  Mexicans  in  the  rear  clung  to  their 
burros  and  swore. 

"The  man  who  was  killed  left  no  child,"  persisted 
Bryton.  "  I  heard  the  story." 

"  A  daughter  was  born  six  months  after  his  death 
—  after  the  wife  had  taken  the  black  veil  of  eternal 
renunciation  of  the  world,"  declared  the  priest, 
solemnly.  "  Now,  senor,  for  the  love  of  God,  will 
you  let  us  find  safer  footing  ?  " 

"  Oh,  yes.  Pardon  me  !  "  and  Bryton  continued 
thoughtfully  along  the  trail  to  the  plain  below. 
When  they  reached  a  broader  road  where  it  was 
possible  to  ride  abreast,  he  asked  one  more  question. 

"Father,  does  she  know?" 

"  Not  unless  some  in   the   world  have    told  her. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Here,  the  old  priest,  her  uncle,  had  power  enough 
over  the  wild  tribe  to  make  them  promise  they 
would  not  tell  her  until  she  had  lived  twenty  years. 
He  died  ten  years  ago,  but  they  kept  faith.  There 
are  some  people  in  the  world  who  had  to  know, — 
the  lawyers  and  judges  who  settled  the  estate,  —  for 
Estevan  was  a  man  of  wealth.  He  carried  wounds 
here  from  the  war  for  California.  The  child  thought 
he  died  from  the  effects  of  those.  Out  in  the  world 
where  she  has  gone,  that  wild  barbaric  outbreak  of  her 
mother's  people  will  never  be  known ;  and  of  the  few 
who  have  learned  it  who  would  tell  her  ? " 
"  True,  father :  who  would  ?  " 


La  Passion  Funesta 


-U  —  f 


Jl 


CHAPTER   VIII 


E  did  not  go  north  for  a  month. 
His  letter  to  Angela  contained 
a  check,  which  she  at  once 
invested  in  very  becoming 
mourning,  for  which  she  of 
course  had  to  journey  to  Los 
Angeles. 

With  her  went  Don  Eduardo  Downing  and  his 
wife,  Dofta  Maria,  who,  with  Rafael,  had  unpleasant 
business  to  transact  with  the  bishop,  and  were  irritable 
in  consequence.  Bryton  called  upon  them  at  the 
home  of  the  ex-Governor  of  California.  After 
Angela's  first  emotional  outburst  at  the  details  of 
Teddy's  death  and  burial,  —  and  regret  that  a  Protes 
tant  clergyman  was  not  to  be  had,  —  she  managed  to 
come  back  to  subjects  nearer  home,  and  retail  a  few 
of  the  changes  since  the  death  of  Dona  Luisa. 

There  had  not  been  time  for  many.  Yet  —  well  — 
there  had  been  the  marriage,  of  course;  and  the 

[147] 


fctf 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

relations  who  thought  it  so  fine  a  thing  that  Rafael 
married  an  heiress  and  a  saint  were  not  so  sure  now. 
The  tone  of  Angela  and  her  slight  shrug  of  con 
tempt  showed  that  she  shared  their  doubts. 

Raquel  Estevan  de  Arteaga  was  in  the  city.  She 
had  ridden  the  sixty  miles  on  horseback,  and  all  the 
old  Spanish  families  were  entertaining  her  in  a  style 
magnificent  as  their  means  would  allow;  but  all  who 
cared  to  have  her  must  invite  no  heretic  Americans, 
and  it  was  understood  to  be  a  promise  to  Dona  Luisa. 
She  did  not  wish  to  meet  the  English-speaking  peo 
ple;  not  one  had  yet  crossed  her  threshold;  even 
Don  Eduardo,  sharing  some  business  interests  with 
her  husband,  was  not  welcomed,  because  he  held  fields 
of  the  old  Mission,  for  which  the  Church  was  fighting 
in  the  courts  of  law. 

The  bishop  himself  had  set  the  pace  for  courtesy 
toward  Raquel.  He  had  called  on  her  personally,  had 
a  long  private  interview  (Angela's  opinion  of  clerical 
private  interviews  with  young  wives  was  expressed  by 
another  shrug),  and  he  made  a  point  of  calling  on 
several  families  where  she  visited. 

Dona  Maria  was  of  course  justly  offended.  Her 
estates  had  been  greater  than  those  of  the  Arteagas, 
and  her  family  name  was  older  in  the  land  than  Este 
van,  which  after  all  was  only  Soanish  for  Stevens. 

[148] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF 

On  this  subject  it  was  easy  to  see  Angela  agreed 
perfectly  with  the  wife  of  her  cousin.  Each  had 
built  her  own  plan  for  certain  social  supremacies  in 
the  little  kingdom  of  San  Juan,  but  neither  had 
reckoned  with  the  fact  that  the  girl  from  a  convent 
in  Mexico  would  assume  a  rule  there  such  as  no  one 
else  had  ever  dared  attempt,  and  emphasize  it  by 
barring  out  heretics,  even  when  married  into  Catholic 
families. 

What  Rafael  thought  of  it  no  one  yet  knew.  He 
hated  the  old  Mission,  above  all  places.  The  only 
time  it  was  worth  while  was  when  the  dances  were 
held  in  the  old  dining-room ;  and  when  his  mother 
died  he  thought  of  course  no  woman  would  ever  wish 
to  live  there.  A  town  residence  was  assured,  and  thus 
closer  connection  with  the  new,  progressive  people. 
But  the  bride  of  a  day  had  decided  differently :  when 
a  home  befitting  their  station  was  built  for  her  in  San 
Juan,  she  would  move  to  it ;  until  then  the  Mission 
rooms  would  serve,  and  they  must  arrange  it  with  the 
bishop. 

To  tell  her  that  the  bishop  no  longer  had  jurisdic 
tion  over  the  property  was  of  no  use  whatever.  She 
had  listened  quietly  to  the  legal  details  of  the  auction 
sale,  when  it  had  all  been  bought  by  Eduardo  Down 
ing  and  Miguel  Arteaga. 

['49] 


ta 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  That  is  right,  to  buy  it  when  the  place  was  sold 
for  debt ;  any  son  of  the  Church  should  do  that,"  she 
conceded;  "but  to  hold  it,  —  to  treat  it  as  a  quarry 
from  which  to  mine  bricks  and  blocks  of  stone, — may 
the  saints  intercede  for  your  brother  in  his  grave,  who 
did  such  wickedness !  If  your  mother  had  known  that 
a  son  of  hers  was  righting  in  the  courts  of  law  against 
the  Church,  it  would  have  killed  her  the  day  the  word 
reached  her.  If  you  people  value  money  more  than 
the  blessing  of  God,  I  will  give  you  money  for  it  — 
to  you  and  your  English  partner;  but  not  another 
blast  of  powder  must  shatter  the  place  of  the  altar." 

It  was  in  vain  they  told  her  Dofia  Maria  had  a 
pious  plan  to  blow  down  the  stonework  —  the  most 
magnificent  monument  of  such  Indian  labor  ever 
erected  in  that  part  of  Mexico  which  is  now  United 
States,  —  and  to  build  on  its  site  an  adobe  chapel  of 
her  own  design.  Raquel  Estevan  de  Arteaga  listened 
quietly  to  all  the  plans,  but  shook  her  head. 

"It  is  sacrilege;  it  shall  not  be,"  she  repeated. 
"  Since  gold  is  the  god  of  the  English  people,  we 
will  give  them  gold." 

"  But  you  forget,  beloved,"  put  in  Rafael.  "  Dofia 
Maria  is  Catholic  —  is  Spanish  —  is  — " 

"Rafael,"  said  his  bride,  quietly,  "will  you  listen  a 
little?  Then  it  will  be  no  need  to  speak  of  those 

[*|0] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 


things  again  —  we  will  both  understand.  The  padre 
comes  a  stranger  to  San  Juan  as  I  do,  but  he  comes 
from  a  strange  land,  and  cares  not  anything  for  these 
different  races.  But  I  have  all  the  names  of  those 
people  from  your  mother,  that  I  know  whom  to  avoid 
in  this  life  —  and  in  the  next." 

"  My  mother  was  one  of  the  old  Spanish  people ; 
they  were  slow.  Times  change." 

"Yes,  times  did  change  when  men  like  Alvarado 
were  pushed  aside  and  a  quadroon  ruled  the  politics 
and  the  Mission  property.  Thus  California  paved 
the  way  for  American  rule.  In  politics  and  business 
men  must  meet  unpleasant  people  often,  but  it  is  not 
ever  necessary  for  the  ladies  of  any  family  to  do  so ; 
and,  Rafael,  here  before  your  padre,  two  things  I  must 
say.  The  heretics  I  have  promised  never  to  meet 
except  as  God  sends  them  in  our  path.  As  for  the 
Spanish  ladies  you  mention,  if  you  do  not  know  that 
there  is  not  a  woman  of  noble  Spanish  blood  in  the 
length  of  this  valley,  then  you  shut  your  eyes  very 
tight  when  you  might  see.  The  daughters  of  Don 
Juan  Alvara  have  one  Spanish  strain  in  them; 
the  others  are  mixed  people  of  Mexican,  Indian, 
and  negro,  and  few  of  them  care  to  remember  their 
grandmothers.  When  you  bring  into  my  house 
Spanish  ladies  of  good  breeding,  I  shall  be  glad 

['50 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

to  make  them  welcome,  but  I  do  not  care  for  the 
substitutes.  The  Indies  by  the  river  are  of  more 
interest,  for  they  need  to  be  taught." 

This  conversation  had  been  repeated  by  Padre 
Andros  to  Dona  Maria  over  a  game  of  malilla  and  a 
glass  of  the  new  American  drink  called  whiskey, — 
a  gift  from  the  army  officers,  and  enjoyed  very 
much  by  the  ladies  of  San  Juan;  it  suggested  a  drink 
made  of  chilis,  because  of  the  appetizing  burn  it 
gave  the  throat. 

Padre  Andros  was  frightened  when  he  saw  the 
effect  of  his  recital.  Dona  Maria  was  not  so  stout  as 
most  of  the  women  of  the  mixed  races;  but  as  he  saw 
the  dark  color  mount  luridly  to  her  face,  and  her  eyes 
look  almost  bloodshot  with  sudden  fury,  he  set  down 
the  glass  of  whiskey  to  cross  himself,  and  dropped  an 
ace  in  his  perturbation. 

"For  the  love  of  God!  senora,"  he  exclaimed;  and 
then  it  was  Angela  entered  the  room  and  found 
her  cousin's  wife  ill  with  a  fury  she  durst  express 
only  in  prayers  and  maledictions  against  this  girl 
brought  to  San  Juan  by  Dona  Luisa  to  ruin  them  all ! 

Only  fragments  of  the  cause  of  her  fury  reached 
Angela,  despite  all  her  sudden  sympathetic  interest 
in  the  wife  of  her  cousin,  to  whom  she  had  heretofore 
been  rather  indifferent.  But  she  pieced  the  fragments 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

together,  and  as  she  told  them  to  Bryton  he  could, 
with  his  own  knowledge  of  the  early  racial  mixtures 
in  the  land,  get  a  very  fair  idea  of  the  situation. 
The  girl  from  Mexico  had  dared  open  the  closet 
of  a  forgotten  skeleton. 

"Of  course  she  rules  Rafael  just  now,  to  a  certain 
extent,"  conceded  Angela,  carelessly.  "He  sees  the 
Church  and  half  the  town  at  her  feet  here ;  she  is 
a  novelty,  and  he  sees  everyone  turn  to  look  at  her. 
But  at  San  Juan  she  will  find  no  one  at  her  feet, 
and  her  churchmen  will  be  far  enough  away.  The 
padre  there  detests  her ;  she  stopped  him  from  selling 
bricks  from  the  cloister  pillars." 

"The  padre  and  Dofia  Maria  should  make  a 
strong  team,"  observed  Bryton.  "  The  woman  need 
be  strong  to  win  against  them  —  is  she  ? " 

"How  do  I  know?  I  Ve  never  spoken  to  her.  She 
has  nasty  eyes.  That's  all  I  can  remember  of  her." 

"Nasty?" 

"Oh,  it  is  the  expression.  I  saw  them  once,  and 
she  made  me  nervous.  Perhaps  it  was  because  she 
divined  that  I  was  one  of  the  *  accursed  heretics.' 
I  understand  that  is  the  way  the  lower  order  speak 
of  Protestants ! " 

"But  she  cannot  be  quite  of  the  lower  order, 
can  she?  Her  father  was  of  the  best  Spanish  and 

[-53] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

American  blood  ever  joined  on  this  coast,  far  above 
the  Arteagas." 

"Oh!  So  you  also  look  up  pedigrees  here;  I 
wonder  why." 

"It  is  a  country  where  you  hear  of  them  without 
question,"  he  returned,  indifferently.  "The  people 
are  always  sparring  among  themselves  and  referring 
to  their  ancestors  —  if  they  dare.  Dofia  Luisa  was  a 
pure-blood  Spanish  woman,  but  the  Arteagas  had  a 
bad  Indian  and  Mexican  streak.  She  saw  it  develop 
in  her  own  children,  and  it  gave  her  a  bad  fright. 
She  counted  on  this  marriage  bringing  the  last  of 
them  back  to  the  old  conservative  manner  of  life." 

"Ah!"  She  shrugged  her  shoulders  contemp 
tuously  ;  "  but  you  forget  that  Raquel,  the  present 
Senora  Arteaga,  has  also  a  Mexican  streak." 

"  No,  I  don't  forget ;  but  there  are  high  class  and 
low  of  every  race.  Noble  Indians  and  high-class 
Mexicans  have  gone  into  history.  The  American 
makes  a  great  mistake  when  he  judges  the  high 
classes  by  the  masses.  In  this  land  one  has  to  dig 
out  the  facts  of  each  individual  line,  if  he  wants  to 
know  the  truth  of  a  pedigree.  But  the  lady  from 
Mexico  seems  to  have  drawn  her  distinctions  very 
closely,  and  realizing  her  own  superiority,  she  dares 
dictate." 

[•54] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"Even  to  her  —  husband?"  There  was  just  the 
slightest  possible  hesitation  at  the  title. 

"  Why  not,  if  she  is  the  superior  ? " 

"  But  —  oh,  can't  you  see  how  all  these  marriages 
are  a  barter-and-sale  family  affair,  —  money  that  is 
married,  instead  of  people?  If  she  was  in  love  with 
him  as  a  —  a  real  woman  would  be,  she  never  would 
know  she  was  superior,  never!  Not  that  I  believe 
she  is,"  she  added  with  a  shrug;  "to  me  she  looks 
as  wooden  as  the  saints  on  her  own  altar." 

He  arose  and  walked  to  the  window,  staring  out 
over  the  heads  of  the  people. 

"She  may  not  be  wooden  to  those  she  cares 
for,"  he  said  at  last. 

"  Perhaps  not ;  but  I  'm  certain  of  one  thing :  if 
she  ever  cared  for  any  one,  it  is  not  the  man  she 
married.  If  she  cared,  she  would  forget  that  rigid 
fanatic  sense  of  duty  sometimes." 

"  I  came  to  talk  of  your  affairs,"  he  said,  abruptly. 
"Teddy  left  some  mining  shares;  they  may  pan  out 
later  on.  I  have  talked  with  a  lawyer  about  them ; 
this  is  his  address,"  and  he  handed  her  a  slip  of  paper. 
"Whatever  funds  are  procurable  he  will  turn  over  to 
you  quarterly.  Is  there  anything  else  I  can  do  for 
you  at  present  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  she  returned ;  "  you  might  be  a  bit  human 

[•55] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

and  sympathetic.  You  seem  to  forget,"  and  her  red 
lip  quivered  in  self-pity,  "how  utterly  alone  I  am 
among  these  Mexicans,  and  all  their  women  jealous 
as  fiends." 

He  regarded  her  with  a  long,  steady  stare,  and  then 
smiled  as  he  rose. 

"  I  don't  blame  them,"  he  observed,  quietly.  "You 
have  given  more  attention  to  several  of  their  men 
than  you  ever  gave  to  poor  Ted.  Where's  your 
baby?" 

"  Heavens  !  Do  you  suppose  I  could  drag  her 
on  this  trip,  and  a  Mexican  or  Indian  nurse  ?  "  she 
demanded,  impatiently.  "That's  so  like  a  man! 
They  think  a  woman  with  a  child  should  be  merely 
a  domestic  animal,  like  those  dunces  of  Spanish 
women.  I  feel  as  if  I  were  in  jail,  hedged  around 
with  all  their  conventions.  I  don't  dare  walk  on 
the  street  alone,  or  with  a  man;  I  don't  dare  ride  in 
a  carriage  with  a  man,  and  it's  no  pleasure  to  go  with 
those  empty-headed  women.  Dona  Maria  is  as  bad 
as  the  rest  since  I'm  in  mourning;  it  is  a  sort  of 
prison,  forbidding  the  wearer  a  free  breath  !  " 

"  Take  it  off,  "  he  suggested,  so  quietly  that  he 
quite  deceived  her,  and  she  uttered  a  little  cry  of 
shocked  appeal. 

"  Keith  !     And  poor  Teddy  —  " 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Angela !"  and  his  hand  fell  heavy  on  her  shoulder, 
"  listen  to  me  just  once.  When  Ted  was  alive  I 
could  bear  to  hear  you  mention  his  name,  but  now 
that  he  is  dead  I  —  can't.  He  belongs  to  me  now, 
and  I  forbid  it." 

"  Keith ! "  She  gasped  again,  but  this  time  in 
sheer  fright.  "  And  the  money  —  the  shares  you  —  " 

He  laughed  mirthlessly,  and  took  his  hand  from 
her  shoulder.  His  moment  of  feeling  gave  place 
to  amused  appreciation  of  the  real  woman  poor  Ted 
had  never  known. 

"Who  says  women  are  inconsistent?"  he  queried. 
"You  are  a  living  illustration  of  the  contrary.  1 
have  never  seen  you  vary  a  hair's-breadth  from  my 
first  instinctive  feeling  concerning  you,  you  pretty 
baby  kitten!  You  need  n't  look  so  frightened  ;  you 
will  get  whatever  money  is  in  reach.  Now,  don't  go 
to  whimpering !  Get  on  your  bonnet,  if  Dona  Maria 
may  think  it  allowable  for  me  to  take  you  both  for 
a  carriage  drive.  I  promised  Ted  to  do  things  for 
you,  and  I  must  make  a  beginning." 

"Is  that  the  only  reason?"  she  began,  with  right 
eous  indignation. 

"That  is  the  only  reason,  my  lady,"  he  returned. 
"  Are  you  coming  ?  " 

A  little  later  they  were  rolling  along  Spring  Street, 

[•57] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

past  the  plaza,  and  many  heads  turned  to  lock  at  the 
golden-haired  girlish  little  figure  in  mourning,  droop 
ing  beside  Dona  Maria,  whose  rigid,  unsmiling,  dark 
features  were  the  best  possible  foil.  Keith  Bryton, 
sitting  opposite,  noticed  the  admiration  she  aroused. 
The  caballeros  who  had  swept  sombreros  to  the  groand 
at  the  passage  of  the  carriage  in  which  Raquel  and 
the  bishop  were  riding  did  so  as  a  matter  of  reverence 
to  a  devotee ;  but  the  rule  of  the  woman  whom  Keith 
had  called  a  baby  kitten  would  always  be  one  of  child 
ish  appeal,  personal  to  a  degree. 

Looking  at  her  cynically,  he  tried  to  fancy  her 
twenty  years  ahead,  —  the  mother  of  a  grown  daugh 
ter, —  but  failed.  The  daughter  would  have  to  be 
guardian;  the  mother  would  always  need  one.  She 
was  watching  him  furtively  to  see  the  effect  this  open 
admiration  might  have  upon  him.  He  was  the 
one  man  of  them  all  who  had  ever  dared  treat  her 
so  carelessly.  His  attitude  had  piqued  her  to  the 
point  where  she  had  a  brief  tigerish  desire  to  rend 
his  heart  —  his  affections  —  if  he  had  any  !  And 
Teddy  was  the  weapon. 

Of  course  she  had  regretted  it  all  —  there  were 
other  men  with  so  much  more  money.  Still, 
as  it  had  turned  out,  it  was  not  so  bad.  She  was 
installed  as  a  member  of  his  family,  and  that  was 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

better  than  to  depend  entirely  on  the  cousinship  to  the 
Mexican  Dofia  Maria.  She  was  really  a  little  afraid 
of  the  swarthy  black-browed  women  of  the  country. 
To  be  sure,  they  sat  around  in  fat  content,  with  their 
bits  of  embroidery  or  drawn  work,  and  seemed  to  see 
nothing  else ;  but  she  had  seen  Dona  Maria  whip  an 
Indian  servant  with  her  own  hands  one  day,  and  the 
blind  rage  in  the  dark  face  had  ever  after  made  Angela 
a  trifle  more  respectful.  It  was  not  nice  to  be  entirely 
at  the  mercy  of  ignorant  power.  Don  Eduardo  was 
always  ready  with  gold  pieces  for  a  pretty  woman,  but 
even  the  distant  cousinhood  might  not  be  all  the 
protection  required  for  a  lady  of  Angela's  beauty,  if 
any  animosity  should  ever  take  root  in  Dona  Maria's 
mind. 

So  it  was  all  well  as  things  stood.  Keith  Bryton 
would,  she  knew,  keep  to  both  letter  and  spirit  of  any 
promise  he  had  made  poor  Teddy,  and  she  felt  sure 
the  fond  boy  had  exacted  much  of  the  brother  who 
he  thought  could  accomplish  all  things. 

Thus  she  decided,  as  she  watched  and  weighed  his 
apparent  amused  indifference  to  the  admiration  she 
excited.  Fair  women  were  at  a  premium  in  the  City 
of  the  Angels.  He  had  just  arrived  from  the  dusky 
tribes  of  Mexico;  before  that  he  had  ranged  the 
desert  land ;  but  she  realized  with  resentment  that  no 

['59] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

beauty  of  hers  would   ever    make   an  oasis  for  him. 
The  men  who  did  admire  her  he  regarded  as  fools. 

He  saw  her  glance  from  him,  and  she  set  her  white 
teeth  together  with  a  little  click  of  absolute  frustration. 
She  had  accepted  his  ungracious  invitation  in  order  to 
show  him  the  admiration  her  mere  appearance  on  the 
drive  would  excite,  and  it  all  weighed  not  an  iota. 
Would  he  ever  really  care  for  any  one  ?  Had  he  ever 
cared  ? 

Then  he  moved  his  hand,  and  the  sun  gleamed  on  the 
ring  he  wore,  the  Mexican  onyx  with  the  Aztec  eagle. 
It  recalled  the  adventure  over  which  she  had  laughed 
at  the  Mission.  She  had  never  believed  Teddy  when 
he  declared  that  Keith's  attraction  for  that  queer 
Mexican  nun  was  a  serious  fact.  Teddy  knew  so 
little,  so  very  little,  of  the  real  feelings  of  either  men 
or  women.  He  had  gone  to  his  death  buoyed  for 
any  sort  of  adventure  by  the  absolute  conviction  that 
his  wife  adored  him.  Poor  Teddy !  Never  would 
any  woman  be  able  to  fool  Keith  Bryton  like  that, — 
not  even  the  woman  he  would  care  for,  if  she  ever  did 
appear. 

While  she  thought  so,  and  watched  him,  his  face 
grew  suddenly  rigid  and  colorless.  The  carriage  of 
the  bishop  came  down  the  street,  the  palomentos  with 
their  golden  coats  and  silver  manes  and  tails  shining 

[160] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

like  satin  in  the  sunlight.  Rafael  sat  with  his  back  to 
the  horses,  looking  very  much  bored  indeed,  but 
beside  the  bishop  sat  the  woman  who  had  faced  her 
on  the  hill  of  San  Juan,  and  who  had  held  her  horse 
in  the  middle  of  the  road. 

She  was  prepared  for  the  sudden  light  of  apprecia 
tion  in  Rafael's  beautiful  eyes,  as  he  lifted  his  hat  and 
let  his  glance  linger  and  meet  hers  for  one  swift  instant 
of  comprehension,  but  she  was  not  prepared  for  the 
sudden  leaning  forward  of  his  dark-browed  bride,  and 
the  quick  look  with  which  she  took  in  the  two  women 
in  the  carriage,  and  then  the  colorless  face  of  their 
escort. 

He  looked  at  her  levelly  as  he  lifted  his  hat  in 
acknowledgment  of  her  husband's  salutation.  If  his 
glance  held  ever  so  slight  a  suggestion  of  warning,  it 
was  unheeded  by  her.  Her  dark  eyes  glowed,  her 
red  lips  parted  and  lost  their  color  as  she  rested  one 
slender  jewelled  hand  on  the  carriage  frame,  and  stared 
at  him  with  incredulous  eyes;  one  could  see  that  she 
did  not  even  breathe  as  the  carriages  whirled  past  each 
other;  at  least  Angela  noted  it. 

By  turning  her  head  she  saw  Rafael  put  cut  his 
hand  suddenly  to  his  wife,  who  had  sunk  back  on  the 
cushions  beside  the  bishop.  His  manner  suggested 
that  he  thought  her  ill.  Keith  could  see  the  same 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

without  turning  his  head.  But  even  after  he  observed 
the  lace-draped  shoulders  straighten  themselves,  and 
the  head  held  again  proudly  erect  under  the  mantilla, 
he  continued  to  gaze  after  them,  unconscious  that  the 
blue  eyes  opposite  him  were  alive  with  curiosity. 

"One  would  think  you  were  a  long-lost  brother, 
from  the  way  that  woman  stared,"  she  remarked. 
"One  would  think  she  would  show  more  restraint 
when  riding  in  state  beside  the  bishop,  and  with  her 
husband  opposite." 

Keith  recovered  himself  and  turned  his  attention 
to  her. 

"Was  that  Rafael  Arteaga's  wife?"  he  asked,  care 
lessly.  "I  supposed  it  was,  but  have  not  had  the 
honor  of  being  presented." 

"Well,  they  told  me  she  would  not  notice  heretics, 
but  one  heretic  was  the  only  person  she  noticed  in  this 
carriage.  How  she  looked  at  you!  I  told  you  she 
had  nasty  staring  eyes,  like  augers  boring  through  one. 
Did  you  see,  Dofta  Maria?  Did  you  not  fear  she 
would  disgrace  us  all  by  leaping  into  the  carriage?" 

Dona  Maria's  black,  bead-like  eyes  were  regarding 
the  young  man  curiously. 

"It  may  be  a  custom  of  Mexico  for  ladies  to  show 
attention  to  strange  men  in  that  way,"  she  observed, 
guardedly.  "It  may  be  so.  I  had  never  heard  of  it. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

The  new  lady  of  the  Mission  is  teaching  San  Juan 
many  new  things,  but  I  do  not  think  she  will  teach  it 
that  sort  of  manners.  They  do  not  compare  well  with 
the  American  ladies'  manners — no?" 

"  I  fancy  it  was  only  as  your  escort  she  was  gracious 
enough  to  turn  and  look  at  me;  she  might  have  fan 
cied  I  was  known  to  her.  She  looks  very  young." 

"You  would  forget  she  was  young  if  you  heard  her 
talk  to  the  padre,"  returned  Dona  Maria,  significantly. 
"It  was  enough  to  bring  a  malediction  on  all  our  heads 
to  listen  to  it!" 

"The  bishop  has  forgiven  her;  at  least  it  looks  so." 

"Oh,  she  is  clever!  He  thinks  she  is  a  saint,  this 
bishop.  But  the  padre  knows!" 

She  did  not  add,  "and  I  know,"  but  her  thin  cold 
lips  with  their  satisfied  smile  suggested  as  much,  and 
Bryton,  observing  it,  felt  anew  that  the  girl  from 
Mexico  had  a  strong  team  to  fight  in  Dofia  Maria  and 
the  padre. 


['63] 


The  Magpie's  Reveille 

(Indian  Gambling  Song) 


"A'a'a'i-ne!  A'a'a'i-ne! 
Ta'a'-ni-aine!  Ta'a'-ni-aine! 
Bita  alkaigi  dike  yiska  ne. 
Gayelka'!  Gayelka'!" 


The  magpie,  the  magpie,  here  underneath, 
In  the  white  of  his  wings  are  the  footsteps  of  the  morning 
It  dawns!  It  dawns! 


HEN  the  night  was  old,  and 
others  slept,  Raquel  Arteaga 
crept  in  silence  to  the  bedside 
of  the  old  Indian  woman  of  the 
hill  tribe  who  had  been  her 
nurse,  who  was  still  her  maid, 
and  who  was  the  one  link  she 
kept  near  her  of  the  old  life. 

"Tia  Polonia,  awake!"  she  said,  briefly;  and  as  the 
woman  did  so,  frightened  and  full  of  questions,  her 
mistress  held  up  her  hand  and  rested  herself  on  the 
side  of  the  pallet,  regarding  the  dark  old  face  with 
doubt. 

cThy  husband,  beloved, — he  has — " 
It  is  not  my  husband  this  time,  Polonia.  He  is 
quite  safe  at  the  gaming-table,  and  will  come  in  at 
sunrise  with  empty  pockets.  It  is  not  my  husband. 
It  is — "  She  paused  a  long  time,  scrutinizing  every 
feature  of  the  old  woman,  who  grew  gray  of  visage 
under  those  smouldering  eyes,  and  her  hands  shook. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"Darling,  little  one,  thou  art  so  like  thy  mother; 
more  than  ever  when  angry,  and  it  is  night;  and  I — 
Holy  God!  It  is  like  a  ghost  comes  to  my  bed  to — to 
— ah,  Dofia  Espiritu — mia! — what  is  the  anger  in  thine 
eyes?" 

"Can  a  dead  woman  be  angry?"  demanded  her 
mistress  drearily,  the  beautiful  curved  mouth  quiver 
ing  for  an  instant.  "And  it  is  a  dead  woman  they 
have  made  of  me — all  of  you!  You  lied  to  me, 
Polonia,  when  you  brought  word  to  me  he  had  died 
there  in  Mexico!" 

The  old  woman  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  sank  back  whimpering  on  the  pallet. 

"I  trusted  you,  and  you  lied  to  me,  all  of  you!" 
the  girl  repeated  in  a  hopeless  tone  of  finality.  "All 
these  months  he  has  been  alive,  and  I  have  not 
known.  You  liars — liars — liars  accursed!" 

The  old  woman  uttered  a  smothered  shriek,  and 
buried  her  face  in  the  blankets. 

"Not  the  curse,  beloved,  not  the  curse!"  she 
begged,  tremulously,  "the  curse  of  your  people.  It 
means  —  it  means —  Ai !  not  the  curse,  little  one! 
Thou  hast  only  meant  to  frighten  me  to  tell  you 
how  it  was,  and  I  will — I  will!  Only,  child  of  the 
spirits,  Dofia  Espiritu,  bring  not  the  curse!" 

She  cowered  and  mumbled  in  a  sort  of  palsied 
[i  66] 


u  You  LIED  TO  ME — ALL  OF  You  !  " 


, 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


fear,  but  the  girl  sat  there  untouched  by  her  misery, 
looking  at  her  drearily.  Perhaps  she  had  some  slight 
hope  of  denial,  but  Polonia's  gray  face  put  that  out 
of  her  reach. 

"Sit  up,"  she  commanded,  and  the  old  woman 
hastily  scrambled  into  a  sitting  posture,  but  with 
her  hands  over  her  eyes,  her  body  still  rocking  with 
fear.  "Why  did  you  do  it?" 

Never  before  had  Tia  Polonia  heard  those  hard 
cold  tones  from  her  "querida" — her  little  one — her 
nursling  of  other  days.  This  girl  sitting  there  erect 
in  the  glimmering  light  of  the  candle  was  really  Dofta 
Espiritu  of  the  tribe  of  the  kings. 

"Excellencia,"  she  muttered,  "it  is  true;  I  did  sin. 
But  the  padre  gave  me  the  word.  He  said  your  soul 
was  lost;  that  the  man  had  bewitched  you  as — as  your 
little  mother  had  been  bewitched  when  she — when  she 
left  religion  for  your  father,  and  in  the  end  they  both 
died  —  and  so  soon!  —  and  —  and  I  wanted  you  to 
live,  Excellencia!  and  I  wanted  your  soul  to  live;  and 
— so  it  was  I  took  the  word  of  the  padre  to  you,  and 
told  you  he  was  dead  —  and  wished  that  he  was  dead 
— but  it  was  all  no  use  at  all!  On  his  hand  when  the 
fever  burned  was  your  ring  —  it  kept  him  alive  and 
he  could  not  die,  and  all  day  and  all  night  he  said, 
*  Dona  Espiritu!  Dofia  Espiritu!'  The  padre  heard, 


$®M 


Wfa 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  I  heard.  The  American  brother,  he  heard  too, 
and  asked  the  Indios  who  was  Dona  Espiritu,  and 
where  did  she  live,  that  he  might  send  for  her.  But 
it  was  no  use.  The  padre  made  them  all  afraid  for 
your  soul,  so  that  I  told  you  the  lie.  Now  it  is  all 
said,  and  my  life  is  going  out  of  my  body  at  the  curse 
of  your  anger." 

In  fact,  the  fear  in  the  old  creature  had  worked  on 
her  own  nerves,  so  that  her  final  words  were  very 
faint.  She  spoke  as  one  half  swooning,  and  put  out 
her  hand  in  pitiful  plea  for  help. 

"Ah  —  the  good  padre,"  said  the  girl,  bitterly. 
"Well,  you  see  how  it  has  all  ended.  The  padre 
died,  and  has  gone  to  God  to  answer  for  the  lie;  and 
the  man  he  wished  dead  is  alive  —  alive  —  alive,  and 
oh  —  Mother  of  God!  is  happy  with — with — " 

Her  cold  self-control  melted  in  a  flood  of  tears, 
and  she  flung  herself  face  down  on  the  pallet  beside 
the  frightened  Indian  woman,  her  form  shaken  with 
shuddering  sobs  of  absolute  despair. 

The  dawn  was  near.  All  the  night  she  had  walked 
in  her  room  alone,  stunned  and  wordless  over  this 
thing  she  could  not  fight,  or  reason,  or  pray  away; 
and  now,  having  heard  it  all, — even  of  his  calls  for 
her  when  unconscious, — she  had  let  fall  for  the  first 
time  the  cold  mask  she  had  worn  since  the  death 


[168] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

of  Dona  Luisa,  and  since  the  significance  of  her  vow 
had  been  revealed  to  her  by  the  days  and  nights  of 
Rafael's  life. 

She  wept  in  a  wild  abandonment  of  grief  at  the 
hopeless  vista  of  years  reaching  on  to  the  edge  of  the 
world  where  death  is.  It  had  all  been  dreary  enough 
before;  but  now — 

When  the  birds  began  their  welcome  of  the  day 
she  was  still  lying  prone,  but  silent.  The  tempest 
of  feeling  had  passed,  and  her  Indian  woman  stroked 
her  hair  softly,  and  waited,  and  did  not  speak.  At 
last  she  rose,  and  looked  out  on  the  yellowing  light 
touching  the  purple  of  the  mountains. 

"  This  is  only  a  dream  of  the  night,  Polonia,"  she 
said,  with  a  great  sigh;  "sleep  again,  and  forget  it  all." 

But  the  old  woman  clung  with  trembling  hands  to 
the  folds  of  the  girl's  gown,  and  rested  her  cheek  on 
the  silken  slippers. 

"And  the  curse,  darling?  what  of  the  curse  of  the 
lie?" 

"Curses  come  home  to  the  people  who  utter  them," 
said  the  girl,  drearily.  "On  my  head  they  all  lie  — 
the  curse  by  which  I  was  made  blind  for  a  little,  little 
while  of  life,  and  which  now  allows  me  to  see  when 
it  is  too  late.  The  curse  of  God  has  followed  our 
people;  no  blessing  of  the  Church  can  wipe  it  out." 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"But  I  — I  — beloved?" 

"The  sin  that  is  for  love  is  not  so  black  a  sin,  and 
it  was  your  love  the  padre  trusted  to  —  your  fear 
that  I  was  bewitched  and  lost.  But  it  is  all  over; 
we  are  in  a  new  land,  and  this  is  a  new  life." 

"And  —  he  is  happy —  without  thee  ?  " 

"I  have  seen  his  wife;  people  call  her  beautiful.  I 
saw  him  almost  touching  her,  yet  I  did  not  scream." 

"Mother  of  God!  his  wife!" 

"I  heard  her  name, —  it  was  enough.  His  I  did  not 
need  to  ask;  I  remembered." 

"But — dear  one — it  is  better  that  he  is  married. 
Pardon,  beloved — I  am  at  thy  feet,  and  I  feel  thy 
heartache.  But,  after  all,  is  it  not  to  thank  the 
saints  that  he  is  married?" 

"Perhaps.  Otherwise,  he  might  say  to  me  some 
day,  'Come!'  And  the  witchcraft  of  the  ring  might 
hold,  and—" 

"Holy  Mother!  and  then — " 

"And  I — God  knows  what  I  might  do,  Polonia." 

And  then  the  old  Indian  woman  was  left  alone, 
mumbling  prayers  and  crossing  herself. 

Later  she  got  up  and  went  to  the  priest  of  Our 
Lady  of  the  Angels  and  brought  a  bottle  of  holy 
water  to  sprinkle  on  the  threshold  of  the  street  door, 
and  all  sides  of  Dofia  Raquel's  room,  that  no  curse 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

of  witchcraft  or  bad  dream  of  the  night  might  have 
power  over  the  days. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  Rafael  came  home 
whistling  gayly  a  dance  of  melody.  He  had  been 
gifted  with  unusual  good  luck,  and  his  pockets  were 
full  of  gold  pieces.  He  threw  a  buckskin  sack  of 
coin  on  his  wife's  bed  before  he  noticed  that  she  was 
not  lying  there. 

"Hola!  Raquelita  mia!  There  is  plenty  to  pay 
for  masses;  your  priests  always  want  money  for  that 
sort  of  thing.  Since  you  look  after  my  soul,  I  pay 
for  the  prayers  when  I  have  good  luck." 

Raquel  arose  from  where  she  knelt  at  the  little 
altar  in  the  corner. 

"Oh,  is  that  where  you  are?  What  need  to  pay 
the  priests  when  you  do  enough  praying  for  an 
army?" 

She  smiled  absently,  but  did  not  speak.  He  stood 
watching  her  as  she  brushed  her  mass  of  dark,  slightly 
waving  hair. 

"Let  your  woman  do  that,"  he  said  at  last,  with 
perfunctory  solicitude.  "It  tires  your  arm,  and  I 
don't  want  you  tired  to-day.  There  is  a  picnic,  and 
we  should  go." 

"Which  of  our  friends  make  it?" 

"It  is   Dofta   Maria    Downing,    who,   as  our  one 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

neighbor  down  the  country,  wants  to  add  to  the 
entertainment  Los  Angeles  gives  you.  It  is  to  make 
peace  with  the  bishop,  I  think;  at  least,  so  it  looks. 
He  is  invited.  You  can  help  them  to  be  friends.  Is 
that  not  the  duty  of  us  both  as  good  Catholics  ? " 

She  halted  in  her  task  and  looked  at  him  quietly. 
He  was  plainly  set  on  being  very  agreeable,  for  some 
reason;  too  seldom  had  he  mentioned  their  faith  but 
to  scoff  at  the  rigid  rules  of  his  mother  and  his  wife. 

"You  want  it  very  much,"  she  said;  "but  why? 
You  do  not  care  at  all  for  Dona  Maria's  personal 
peace  with  the  bishop.  That  can  be  arranged  without 
a  picnic  to  the  hills.  It  only  needs  that  they  give 
back,  of  their  own  free  will,  that  which  belongs  to  the 
Church,  and  make  a  confession  that  it  was  wrongly 
held." 

"If  you  would  only  talk  to  her  of  this  graciously, 
instead  of  demanding  it,"  persisted  Rafael,  gently, 
"much  could  be  effected.  Dona  Angela  thinks  for 
certain — " 

"Dona  Angela?" 

"Oh,  I  mean  her — the  relative  who  is  with  her 
now  —  the  Mrs.  Bryton  who  drove  with  her  yester 
day.  The  bishop  asked  who  she  was  —  you  remem 
ber?" 

"I  remember,"  she  said,  quietly,  though  a  little 
[172] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

shudder  touched  her.  "  But  I  am  tired  of  this  town, 
Rafael.  I  meant  to  tell  you  so  this  morning.  I  want 
to  ride  home  to-day.  Dona  Maria's  merry-makings 
do  not  attract  me.  Our  business  here  is  over;  let 
us  go." 

"Holy  God!  but  you  are  a  wife  for  a  man!"  he 
cried  in  sudden  fury.  "  I  weigh  you  down  with  jew 
els  and  silks  and  laces,  and  you  would  bury  them  all 
with  yourself  in  that  old  rat-hole  of  a  Mission.  I 
wish  to  God  the  padre  and  Dona  Maria  had  blown 
down  every  brick  of  it  before  you  saw  the  accursed 
place !  " 

"  Accursed  ?     The  Church  of  God  ?     Rafael ! " 

"Ay,  accursed,  since  you  will  know!"  he  repeated. 
"Every  old  Indian  of  San  Juan  can  tell  you  that." 

"Some  Indian,  perhaps,  who  has  had  to  be  whipped 
by  the  padres,"  she  remarked,  with  quiet  scorn. 

"You  don't  believe  me?"  he  cried.  "Well,  you 
shall!  Sit  down  —  sit  down  and  listen  for  once,  and 
you  will  be  glad  to  keep  out  of  the  curse-haunted 
place." 

She  regarded  him  with  a  little  tolerant  smile,  and 
drew  a  serape  of  blue  around  her,  and  curled  herself 
on  the  foot  of  the  bed  and  waited. 

"It  is  early  for  stories,"  she  observed;  "but  since 
it  is  your  pleasure  —  " 

[•73] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Not  any  pleasure  has  any  of  it  been  to  me  from 
first  to  last,"  he  retorted,  "nor  any  pleasure  will  it  be 
to  whoever  holds  it!  You  think  you  are  strong,  your 
saints  will  help  you!  But  no  saint  ever  put  on  an 
altar — not  even  that  of  the  Virgin  herself — can  take 
off  the  curse  from  San  Juan  till  the  altar  is  bathed  in 
human  blood,  as  the  tiles  of  the  floor  have  been 
bathed  —  that  is  the  curse  of  Sahirit." 

She  stared  at  him  with  wide  eyes  and  blanching 
face. 

"Until  the  altar  is  bathed  in  human  blood,  as  the 
tiles  of  the  floor  have  been,"  she  whispered.  "Ra 
fael!  That — that  is  of  a  religion  older  than  the  life 
of  Christianity  in  Mexico.  God  of  Gods!  Does  it 
follow  me  here?" 

"Follow  you!"  and  he  laughed  contemptuously; 
"it  is  a  story  older  than  our  grandfathers.  Only  the 
old  Indians  whisper  it  now  each  time  ill  luck  comes 
to  any  of  us  —  and  I've  had  enough!  When  they 
picked  up  Miguel  tramped  into  the  earth  by  the 
cattle,  only  the  white  men  would  help — no  Indian; 
they  knew  it  was  the  curse  coming  true." 

"Tell  me,"  she  said,  briefly.  Her  lips  were  white, 
and  she  shuddered  with  cold,  and  drew  the  scrape 
close. 

"You'd  rather  hear  some  old  Indian   tell   it,"   he 

['74] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

answered;  "they  make  one  chill  when  they  count  on 
their  fingers  and  toes  the  things  the  curse  has  brought 
We  had  a  curse  of  our  own  in  the  Arteaga  family: 
my  mother  was  always  in  prayer  because  of  that;  she 
never  knew  that  Miguel  had  bought  an  interest  in 
another." 

"Go  on  —  tell  me!  How  comes  the  rule  of  the 
Aztec  altar  to  this  Christian  temple?" 

"Aztec?  I  did  not  say  Aztec.  I  know  nothing 
of  their  mummeries.  But  it  can't  be  that — there 
have  been  no  Aztecs  since  the  time  of  Cortez  and 
the  priests." 

"I  —  I  have  heard  there  is  one  hill  tribe  still  refus 
ing  the  saints,  and  giving  the  sun  worship,"  she  said, 
slowly.  "But  go  on;  tell  me!" 

"Sun-worship!  yes,  that's  the  thing!"  he  cried. 
"A  man,  who  was  a  heretic  of  Mexico  and  a  great 
builder  of  stone,  killed  a  priest  and  a  woman  down 
there.  Some  say  the  woman  was  his  wife.  He  was 
to  have  his  head  cut  off  for  it,  but  word  went  down 
from  here  that  such  a  man  was  needed  by  the  priests 
of  San  Juan;  they  wished  to  build  a  stone  church 
instead  of  adobe  brick,  as  all  the  others  were,  if  only  a 
master  mason  could  be  sent  to  them.  They  had 
soldiers  to  guard  him,  even  if  the  man  chanced  to  be 
a  convict,  as  many  of  the  guards  had  been,  and  they 

[-75] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

got  the  viceroy  to  help;  and  in  the  end  the  heretic 
who  had  killed  a  priest  was  sent  to  San  Juan.  The 
old  Indies  say  he  looked  as  big  as  two  men,  and  he 
worked  as  he  pleased.  When  the  padres  inter 
fered  he  sat  down  and  looked  at  the  piles  of  stone  and 
did  nothing,  and  nothing  could  move  him.  They 
could  have  shot  and  buried  him,  but  that  would  not 
build  their  church,  which  was  to  be  the  finest  in  the 
Californias.  So  they  had  to  let  him  alone,  and  he 
built  it  as  pleased  himself.  Their  ground  plan  only 
he  accepted.  It  was  like  a  cross,  as  you  see  it  now, 
but  on  no  other  part  of  the  church  was  any  symbol 
of  Christianity  —  only  stars  and  other  things  which 
some  say  are  flowers  and  some  say  are  suns  and 
moons,  and  on  the  corner-stone  and  key-stone  of  the 
high  altar  is  carved  a  thing  no  Christian  can  read,  not 
even  the  padres  —  and  somewhere  in  those  symbols  is 
held  the  curse." 

"Who  says?     Did  he  ?  " 

"  He  ?  No ;  he  died  laughing,  and  refused  the 
blessing  of  the  priest.  One  thing  only  he  said  when 
he  read  the  words  on  the  oldest  bell,  as  he  built  a 
place  in  the  tower  for  it.  The  name  of  the  maker  is 
on  the  bell;  you  can  see  it  yet;  it  is  Ruelas.  'So 
Ruelas  made  you  —  iron-tongue,'  a  soldier  heard  him 
say,  'and  your  name  is  San  Juan.  Well,  Senor 


"R.UELAS  ME   FECIT. 
ME  LLAMA  SAN  JUAN.     1796.' 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


Ruelas, 


ily  have 


r  name  in  this  work.  The 

good  padres  will  see  that  my  name  is  forgotten,  but 
instead  of  a  name,  I  will  leave  myself,  and  so  long  as 
stone  stands  on  stone  I  will  call  louder  and  farther 
than  your  iron  tongue  when  rung  your  loudest! 
When  the  storms  of  centuries  shall  beat  out  every 
star  and  moon  and  sun  in  the  stone  of  the  temple, 
the  man  from  Culiacan  will  be  remembered  here  in 
Sahirit.' " 

"Sahirit?" 

"The  Indian  name  for  the  valley  was  'Quanis  Savit 
Sahirit';  you  can  see  it  on  the  church  records." 

"And  it  means  ?  " 

"  No  one  knows,  and  no  one  cares ;  it  may  mean 
another  curse,  for  all  I  know.  The  Indies  either  do 
not  know  or  will  not  tell." 

"  But  — "  and  she  drew  in  a  long  breath  of  re 
lief —  "what  the  man  from  Culiacan  said  to  the  bell  — 
the  thing  the  soldier  heard — was  not  a  curse;  it  was 
only  that  the  beautiful  work  should  be  remembered." 

"  Oh,  yes,  that !  But  there  was  a  prophecy  years 
before,  when  the  corner-stone  was  set  in  its  place 
and  blessed  by  the  padres,  and  the  Indies  were  all 
there  on  their  knees  saying  a  rosary,  and  the  viceroy 
and  all  the  dignitaries.  An  Indian  hunter  was  also 
there  from  the  south,  and  he  was  a  stranger.  He 

C'77] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

looked  at  the  thing  carved  on  the  corner-stone,  and 
he  looked  at  the  builder,  who  leaned  against  the  wall 
and  laughed  when  the  holy  water  touched  it ;  and  the 
stranger  crossed  himself,  for  his  mother  was  a  convert; 
but  to  the  captain  of  the  guard  he  said  the  thing  I 
told  you,  and  the  captain  of  the  guard  was  of  my 
father's  family.  So  it  was  repeated  down  to  our  time." 

"  But  the  words  —  he  said  what  of  a  prophecy  ? " 

"  He  said  human  blood,  and  not  holy  water,  must 
baptize  the  stones  and  the  altar  of  a  temple  with  those 
signs.  He  was  afraid  the  padre  would  put  maledic 
tion  on  him  if  he  told  him  that  the  blessing  of  a 
Christian  saint  was  not  so  strong  as  the  gods  of  the 
Indians,  but  he  would  not  stand  or  kneel  beside 
the  lines  where  the  church  was  to  be,  and  he  would 
not  tell  why  he  was  afraid.  He  said  he  did  not  know 
what  would  happen  there :  it  might  be  a  tidal  wave 
from  the  sea  in  sight,  or  it  might  be  a  pestilence,  for 
the  people  were  very  wicked  and  very  dirty,  but  it 
was  marked  with  a  sign  for  evil,  and  it  would  be  well 
if  the  walls  never  went  higher." 

"Well?" 

"  They  tried  to  get  him  to  tell  the  padre,  so  that 
the  builder  might  be  whipped,  but  the  stranger  Indian 
was  afraid.  He  said  he  wanted  to  live  to  see  his 
children  again,  and  they  lived  south  in  the  hill  country; 

[-78] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  he  ran  away  when  they  tried  to  keep  him,  but  he 
had  warned  some  old  Indies,  and  when  the  first  earth 
quake  cracked  the  walls,  they  all  remembered." 

"And—?" 

"  The  mason  laughed,  but  mended  the  cracked  walls 
and  went  on  at  work,  always  singing,  always  working, 
even  before  sunrise.  The  old  Indies  who  helped  said 
it  was  at  sunrise  hour  only  that  he  worked  on  the  key 
stones  with  the  suns  and  star  things,  but  they  maybe 
lied.  And  after  the  dedication  of  the  church  he  died 
as  he  lived,  laughing  and  a  heretic;  and  when  the 
earthquake  came  and  the  tower  of  the  bells  fell,  and 
the  tiles  of  the  floor  were  wet  with  the  blood  of  the 
thirty-nine  lives  crushed  out  there,  then  the  old  Indies 
whispered  and  remembered  many  things;  for  the 
prophecy  of  the  strange  learned  Indian  of  the  south 
had  come  true." 

"And  — the  altar?     Did  — some  one — " 

Her  lips  were  stiff  as  with  cold,  and  she  could 
scarcely  articulate. 

"  Holy  God !  how  white  you  are,  Raquel ! "  he 
exclaimed.  "  I  thought  you  were  not  a  coward  like 
the  other  women.  Take  this  wine  —  take  it!  Por 
Dios,  but  you  gave  me  a  fright!" 

She  swallowed  the  wine,  and  smiled  absently  at  his 
excitement,  and  drew  the  scrape  closer.  She  did  not 

['79] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

speak  again  for  a  long  time,  just  sat  staring  out  toward 
the  blue  of  the  hills. 

"Are  you  in  a  trance?"  he  demanded.  "Santa 
Maria,  but  you  are  a  wife  to  come  home  to!  If  I 
interest  you  at  all,  I  have  to  talk  to  you  of  things  bad 
enough  to  scare  the  devil.  Now  you  see  why  Dona 
Maria  blows  down  the  walls  —  they  were  accursed 
from  the  beginning.  She  thinks  maybe  she  is  doing 
a  pious  thing,  who  knows?" 

"Selling  to  others  the  stone  that  is  accursed?" 

"  Oh,  that  is  a  side  issue.  But  I  think  truly,  Ra- 
quelita,  she  is  afraid  of  the  bishop  now,  since  you 
have  come.  I  even  think  she  wants  to  be  friends; 
Dona  Angela  told  me.  She  has  promised  that  she 
will  build  a  chapel  there  of  adobe,  if  the  bishop  will 
give  his  benediction.  Much  of  bad  luck  is  coming 
to  them,  and  she  is  growing  afraid." 

"Yes;  she  has  no  sense  of  justice  in  her;  she  has 
only  fear,"  returned  Raquel.  "  Let  her  build  chapels 
if  she  likes,  but  the  blessing  of  God  was  put  on  those 
stone  walls,  as  well  as  the  curse  of  a  heretic,  and  what 
she  has  done  is  sacrilege.  I  will  do  nothing  to  coun 
tenance  it,  or  allow  it  to  continue." 

"But,  at  least,  you  will  do  one  thing,"  he  said, 
emphatically.  "You  have  heard  enough  of  the  curse 
to  show  you  why  it  is  no  place  for  human  beings  to 

[,8o] 


Fir 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

live.  Only  half  the  curse  is  carried  out.  The  tiles 
have  been  baptized  by  human  blood  —  but  not  the 
altar.  You  will  stay  here  with  live  people,  and  let 
the  old  ruin  wait  alone  for  the  curse  to  be  lifted." 

"  I  will  go  back,"  she  said,  with  sudden  decision, 
dropping  the  scrape  from  around  her  shoulders  and 
beginning  to  braid  her  hair.  "No,  you  need  not 
swear  like  that,  Rafael ;  God  would  shut  His  ears  if 
He  heard  you.  You  have  told  me  a  fine  story  of  fear, 
and  some  of  it  may  be  true,  but  our  duty  lies  there. 
We  may  lift  the  curse ;  we  can  go  back  and  try." 

Her  husband  sprang  to  his  feet  and  flung  his  chair 
crashing  into  the  low  window  opening  on  a  veranda. 
The  shattered  glass  fell  in  a  glittering  heap,  but 
the  noise  of  it  did  not  drown  his  oaths. 

"  It  is  no  use  at  all  to  break  the  windows  of  our 
friends,  Rafael,"  observed  his  wife;  "and  neither  the 
saints  nor  Our  Lady  the  Virgin  will  allow  such 
curses  as  yours  to  be  heard.  There  are  dangers 
here  for — for  both  of  us,  perhaps,  —  dangers  more 
to  be  afraid  of  than  the  walls  of  the  good  padres. 
I  ride  back  to-day." 

"You  think  of  it  as  all  past,  that  curse?"  he  de 
manded,  threateningly.  "  Well,  you  think  so  !  Priests 
have  gone  mad  there,  though  the  Church  keeps  it 
quiet.  Since  the  year  Don  Eduardo  and  Dona  Maria 


TH'E    SOUL,  OF    RAFAEL 

''.;.•'  '       '        »       i 

bought    it,  what    has    happened  ?      All  their  land  is 

slipping  away.  To-day  she  is  building  an  adobe  on 
the  old  Mission  ranch,  to  hold  one  hundred  and  sixty 
acres  in  case  they  lose  all  the  rest  of  their  thirty  miles 
of  ranches.  Two  of  her  sons  have  been  killed  in  the 
streets — one  by  a  woman.  All  that  remains  is  slip 
ping  slowly  through  their  fingers.  It  is  like  a  hand 
ful  of  wheat:  the  closer  they  try  to  hold  it,  the  less 
they  have  in  their  hands.  All  they  try  is  of  no 
use.  When  they  first  bought  those  old  walls  of  the 
Mission  at  Pico's  auction,  they  were  masters  of 
the  land,  but  what  of  that  ? " 

"  If  it  is  a  curse,  they  earned  it  by  tearing  down  the 
temple  consecrated  to  God,  that  is  all ! " 

"All?  Miguel,  my  brother,  blew  down  no  walls; 
he  did  no  harm  to  anything  at  all.  He  only  bought  an 
interest  in  the  Mission  lands,  and  claimed  some  living- 
rooms  as  his  share,  and  he  is  struck  like  the  others  by 
the  curse,  and  does  not  die  in  his  bed  either,  but  is 
trampled  into  the  earth  until  no  one  can  see  him ! " 

"But  that  may  be  the  other  curse  working  —  the 
curse  on  the  Arteagas.  You  people  seem  to  have 
earned  a  great  many!  Is  it  not  time  some  of  the 
family  should  try  to  live  for  blessings? " 

He  did  not  answer,  only  stared  at  her  with  angry 
eyes  and  lips  twitching  in  wrath  he  could  not  express. 

[,82] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

She  looked  at  him  an  instant,  and  stretched  out  her 
arms  wearily.  All  the  glorious  world  of  love  about 
them,  yet  never  aught  of  harmony  in  their  two  lives 
linked  together.  She  had  never  seen  the  life  domestic 
of  young  people.  She  did  not  know  what  it  might 
mean  to  other  women,  but  there  were  days  when  she 
grew  sick  with  the  dread  of  future  years,  the  endless 
prison  of  her  vow,  the  — 

Suddenly  she  turned  to  him  with  a  little  gesture 
of  appeal,  almost  tremulous.  It  was  such  weary 
work  to  battle  constantly;  and  his  mother — 

"Rafael,"  she  said,  gently,  "the  blessings  are  in 
the  world  somewhere  —  shall  not  we  try  to  find  them? 
The  old  lives  of  the  maledictions  are  gone.  Ours  is 
the  new  life,  and  we  have  done  no  wrong  to  expiate. 
And  it  may  be,  if  we  live  as  —  as  your  mother  would 
have  wanted  us  to  live,  that  the  saints  — ' 

"To  the  bottom  of  the  sea  with  your  saints!" 
he  broke  in,  angrily.  "  Por  Dios !  you  are  always 
dragging  the  dead  out  of  their  graves  to  make  the 
days  like  a  funeral.  I  prefer  most  the  picnic  in  the 
hills,  and  I  go  to-day." 

"So  do  I,"  she  answered;  "but  it  will  be  to  the 
hills  of  the  south  by  the  sea.  To-night  the  moon 
shines,  and  the  ride  will  be  better  than  a  picnic  of 
your  political  friends." 


^^^^^K 

FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"By—" 

"It  is  no  sort  of  use  for  you  to  make  empty  oaths, 
Rafael.  I  leave  this  town  to-day;  with  you  if  you 
are  wise,  without  you  if  you  are  not.  But  I  myself 
-I  go!" 

He  went  out  and  slammed  the  door,  and  directly 
she  heard  him  tell  Juan  Castillas  that  he  had  married 
one  of  the  wooden  saints  of  the  Mission  come  to  life. 

"  I  am  glad  it  is  not  one  with  the  broken  glass  eyes 
and  the  missing  ringers,"  laughed  Juan.  "  Dofta 
Raquel  is  the  most  beautiful  woman  in  the  Califor- 
nias  to-day." 

She  turned  from  the  window  and  looked  at  herself 
in  the  mirror.  The  most  beautiful  woman  in  the 
Californias  !  Was  that  so  ?  Could  it  be  ?  Yet  what 
was  beauty,  after  all,  if — 

Between  herself  and  the  glass  another  face  seemed 
to  arise,  —  the  blue-eyed  childish  face  for  which  she 
had  been  forgotten. 

"  Holy  Mother !  "  she  moaned,  and  covered  her 
own  with  her  hands.  "  Of  what  use  is  beauty  to  a 
woman  who  is  not  beloved  ? " 


[184] 


El  Tormento  de  Amor. 


J        J 


m 


Tor  -  men ' 


to 


de  a    -  mor, 


pas-sionque   de    -   vo- 


Tu     mar  -  chi      tas  •  te      la  fuente      de      mi      vi  -   da. 


CHAPTER   X 


WASTED  the  holy  water  on 
the  doorway  of  the  sala  and 
the  bedroom,"  grumbled  old 
Polonia,  ensconced  among  the 
scrapes  on  the  carreta ;  "  I 
should  have  kept  it  for  the 
road  to  the  sea.  She  rides 

away  from  him  alone;  but  it  is  a  witchcraft,  all  the 
same. " 

Secretly  the  old  woman  gave  sympathy  to  the 
handsome  Rafael,  who  loved  women  of  gaiety  and  fine 
clothes.  The  town  was  a  very  good  place  to  stay, 
and  the  band  played,  and  there  was  a  good  circus; 
and  to  choose  instead  a  nasty  old  Mission  where 
a  cross  priest  scolded,  and  smoked,  and  drank  him 
self  stupid  each  dinner-time !  What  kind  of  a  girl 
would  go  back  there? 

[-85] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Still,  the  old  Indian  knew  that  she  was  not  of  wood, 
like  the  statues  in  the  old  church,  let  the  husband 
think  as  he  might!  Last  night  had  proven  she  could 
be  her  mother's  own  child  in  a  storm  of  passion.  It 
was  perhaps  for  the  best  that  she  did  not  love  her 
husband  so  madly ;  for  if  he  should  ever  prove  un 
true, —  and  men  of  course  were  so — what  might  not 
happen  ? 

She  thought  of  the  witchcraft  of  the  mother,  and 
crossed  herself. 

The  moon,  the  beautiful  moon  of  the  month 
of  Mary!  shone  round  and  silvered  in  the  blue  above 
the  mountains,  as  the  blaze  of  the  sun  sank  into  the 
western  sea.  South  lay  the  ranch  of  San  Joaquin,  and 
Raquel,  for  all  her  thirty-mile  ride,  was  sorry.  She 
would  have  no  excuse  to  ride  past;  it  was  the  one 
slight  of  the  country  to  pass  the  house  of  an  ac 
quaintance,  and  this  family  was  one  deserving  of 
honor.  The  soft  dusk  of  warm  lands  had  stretched 
over  the  level.  The  sweet  clover  along  the  road  had 
a  deeper  note  of  perfume,  and  the  patches  of  mustard 
bloom  added  its  own  spicy  fragrance.  Gladly  she 
would  have  ridden  on  alone  in  the  perfect  night,  but 
it  would  not  do.  She  cared  little  for  the  herd  of 
people,  but  she  always  tried  to  keep  in  mind  what  the 
Dona  Luisa  would  have  done  in  the  little  duties 

[186] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

toward  the  opinion  of  the  valley,  and  she  had  no  idea 
of  making  a  scandal,  or  of  appearing  to  ride  in  secret 
from  the  town  where  her  husband  was  still  detained. 

So,  when  the  dogs  barked,  she  galloped  forward 
to  the  ranch-house,  and  was  met  with  excited  welcome 
from  the  mistress  and  her  two  vivacious  daughters 
and  their  cousin  Ana  Mendez.  All  the  news  of  the 
town  they  asked  for.  They  had  heard  wonderful 
things  of  the  courtesy  shown  her  by  the  new  bishop, 
who  was  not  given  to  showing  much  pronounced 
attention  to  even  the  devout  of  the  faith.  They  had 
rejoiced  each  day  to  hear  of  the  honors  showered  on 
her  by  the  families  of  the  city.  It  was  as  if  a  queen 
had  arrived  in  their  valley  —  and  to  leave  it  all  and 
ride  alone  in  the  night ! 

Ana  cut  their  queries  short  and  bade  them  see  to  old 
Polonia,  that  she  might  be  fed  and  rested  well,  and 
the  driver  also,  and  then  carried  her  guest  to  her  own 
room,  where  she  put  her  hands  on  Raquel's  shoulders 
and  looked  into  her  eyes,  and  then  without  a  word  led 
her  to  the  shrine  in  the  corner,  where  they  both  knelt. 

When  the  prayer  was  over  and  she  had  seen  her 
guest  supplied  with  bread,  and  red  wine,  and  olives, 
and  sliced  beef,  she  regarded  her  sadly  a  moment, 
noting  that  only  the  wine  was  swallowed,  and  that  the 
girl  looked  pale  in  the  candle-light. 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"  Poor  little  dear,"  she  said,  softly,  and  patted  her 
shoulder  and  spoke  with  the  tenderness  of  intimacy. 
"  I  think  now  thou  wert  only  a  child  that  morning  in 
the  wedding-veil,  when  she  gave  thee  that  vow  and 
died.  Thou  hast  such  strength  in  looks,  my  Raquelita, 
no  one  remembers  how  young  in  life  thou  art.  But  I 
see  now  how  it  is.  Rafael  is  the  son  of  my  mother's 
cousin,  and  I  know  that  blood !  You  but  give  the 
word,  and  my  uncle  shall  ride  to  Los  Angeles  in  the 
morning  and  say  what  is  right  to  be  said  to  Rafael. 
We  know  those  boys  —  Miguel  too,"  and  she  crossed 
herself.  "  My  uncle  always  look  himself  to  the  door- 
key  when  that  Miguel  Arteaga  come  with  a  serenade. 
Oh,  we  know  those  boys  in  this  valley  better  than 
their  mother,  who  thought  to  guard  Rafael  from  the 
heretics.  Holy  Mary!  No  heretic  in  the  land  lived 
worse  than  the  life  on  Miguel  Arteaga's  ranches ! " 

"That  does  not  make  any  difference  at  all,"  said 
the  girl,  wearily.  "  I  took  the  vow,  f  So  long  as  we 
both  shall  live'  That  seems  a  long  time,  my  dear 
Ana,  but  I  must  have  not  one  other  thought  in  this 
life." 

"And  he  sends  thee  home?" 

"No;  this  is  not  his  fault  —  do  not  think  it," 
and  she  evaded  the  eyes  of  Ana.  "He  will  follow, 
now  that  I  have  come;  I  am  most  certain  of  that;  but 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


he  was  in  a  rage,  of  course,  and  if  I  would  live  there 
in  the  town  he  would  do  anything  to  please  me, 
almost.  But  I  feel  weak  some  days.  I  —  I  am 
not  strong  enough  to  fight  the  people  there  whom 
his  mother  was  afraid  of.  In  my  own  house  they 
will  not  come.  In  my  own  valley  I  may  keep  my 
promise." 

"Poor  little  dear,"  moaned  Ana  again.  It  was  a 
good  hope,  and  the  girl  did  not  seem  to  have  much 
else  to  live  for;  but  Ana  had  known  the  Arteaga  men 
for  many  years,  and  had  her  doubts. 

"It  is  time  that  Rafael  were  at  home,"  she  con 
ceded.  "Juan  Flores  is  around  the  range  again; 
some  say  El  Capitan  is  with  him,  and  they  are  on 
this  side.  Last  night  they  had  supper  at  Trabuco 
ranch;  they  did  no  harm  there,  but  that  does  not 
mean  that  he  will  do  no  harm  elsewhere.  Avila  let 
him  have  horses  once  when  the  marshal  was  close 
behind;  since  that  time  Avila's  house  is  safe,  and 
his  herds  as  well." 

"And  Capitan?" 

"Oh!"  Ana's  tone  was  carefully  careless.  "No 
one  seems  certain  he  is  along.  He  does  not  so  often 
come  this  way;  for  a  year  he  has  been  somewhere  in 
Sonora  —  only  when  the  horses  are  picked  for  the 
government,  or  the  Arteagas  have  a  fine  lot  broken, 

[189] 


does  he  cross  to  this  country.  There  is  where  Rafael 
needs  guarding  more  than  from  heretics." 

"From  Capitan?     He  —  he  —  would  not  kill  —  " 

"No,"  said  Ana,  slowly;  "I  never  think  he  wants 
Rafael  to  die;  he  only  wants  him  not  to  be  happy; 
always  he  wants  Rafael  to  remember  he  is  not  so  far 
away  but  he  can  do  him  harm.  Rafael  hates  the 
lonely  Mission  valley  on  account  of  that.  In  a  town 
Capitan  never  can  make  him  afraid  so  much." 

"  Rafael  is  not  a  coward,  I  think,"  returned  Raquel. 

"No,  but  he  knows  Capitan  does  not  forget  — 
there  was  a  girl  between  them  once.  Rafael  is  the 
handsomer,  so  he  got  her.  Oh,  that  is  long  ago. 
But  Rafael  was  foolish  and  laughed  too  loud,  and  so 
he  has  to  pay!" 

"  But  I  think  that  is  a  mistake.  I  heard  all  about 
the  trouble;  his  mother  told  me.  Capitan  fights  the 
government  only,  and  takes  horses  from  the  Arteagas 
because  they  go  with  the  Americanos  as  friends;  that 
is  all.  We  heard  it  all  at  San  Luis  Rey  as  we  drove 
north  —  you  remember?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  am  not  forgetting  that,"  and  Ana 
laughed.  "I  listen  all  the  time  to  what  his  mother 
thinks  she  knows  about  tha-t;  and  it  is  true,  too,  but 
not  all  the  truth.  I  could  tell  you  —  " 

She  stopped  suddenly,  not  certain  it  was  wise  to 
[190] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

tell  the  girl  the  thing  causing  her  amusement,  for,  after 
all,  it  was  not  really  funny ;  it  was  serious  enough  in 
itself,  it  might  frighten  the  girl  very  much.  No 
other  in  her  place  would  live  one  hour  in  the  valley, 
or  ride  at  night  with  only  one  man  and  an  old  Indian 
woman  as  guard. 

"  If  you  know  that  I  have  been  told  lies,  you  had 
better  tell  me  the  truth,"  said  Raquel.  "  It  may  cost 
me  more  to  find  it  out  alone  than  to  hear  it  from  a 
friend." 

"That  is  true,"  agreed  Ana,  after  a  moment  of 
thought.  She  went  to  the  door  and  looked  in  the 
outer  room  to  be  sure  no  curious  ears  were  there. 
She  could  hear  ecstatic  cries  from  the  girls,  who  were 
giving  old  Polonia  good  things  to  eat,  and  plying  her 
with  endless  questions.  She  was  recounting  the  bril 
liant  worldly  scenes  her  old  eyes  had  lately  witnessed, 
and  pitying  herself  a  little  that  she  could  not  remain ; 
for  each  day  had  been  finer  than  the  day  before. 
And  the  horse-races,  and  the  fine  cavaliers,  and  Dona 
R.iquel  always  in  the  finest  carriage  —  Holy  Mary! 
but  it  was  a  thing  to  see ! 

Ana  closed  the  door  tightly  and  came  back  and  sat 
down  beside  Raquel  and  took  her  hand. 

"  My  aunt  and  the  girls  are  over  their  heads  in  de 
light  out  there,"  she  remarked,  dryly ;  "and  I  will  tell 

[190 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

you  a  thing  no  one  has  been  told  concerning  that  ride 
from  San  Luis  Rey.  Rafael  lost  some  fine  horses 
that  night  —  do  you  remember?" 

Raquel  did  not ;  she  might  have  heard  —  but  Dona 
Luisa's  death,  all  that  sorrow,  all  the  many  and  quick 
changes,  had  blotted  out  the  fainter  records  of  that 
day. 

"Well,  when  we  stopped  for  coffee  at  the  camp  the 
cook  told  us;  you  may  not  have  heard.  However, 
they  were  taken  after  you  went  into  the  river.  You 
have  not  forgotten  that?" 

cc  How  could  I?  Oh,  yes,  I  remember  !  The  priest 
told  me  that  night.  How  strange  it  should  have  all 
been  crowded  out  of  my  mind !  He  told  me  to  give 
Rafael  a  message  of  warning.  What  was  it  ?  What 
was  it  ? " 

She  clasped  her  hands  over  her  brows  and  tried  to 
remember.  Her  first  meeting  with  Rafael  beside  the 
dead  body  of  his  mother  had  driven  out  of  her  mind 
the  message  she  was  to  have  delivered.  It  was  a 
warning,  a  warning  of  some  sort;  that  much  she  was 
sure  of,  and  —  what  was  it  about  her  father  —  her 
father's  name? 

"  I  think,"  said  Ana,  speaking  softly  and  watching 
her,  "  that  he  told  you  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter  had 
saved  Rafael  Arteaga  a  treasure  that  night." 

[192] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"Anita!  So  he  did  ;  and  you  know  the  words,  the 
very  words  he  spoke  to  me  !  " 

"  I  know  more,  Raquel  mia ;  I  know  what  the  treas 
ure  was." 

"And—?" 

"  It  is  not  nice  to  tell,"  and  Ana  hesitated.  "  But 
he  saw  you  there  that  evening  with  his  own  eyes." 

"The  priest?" 

"  Yes,  the  priest.  He  saved  you  from  being  carried 
to  the  hills  by  the  Juan  Flores  robbers,  while  Capitan 
took  others  of  the  men  and  secured  the  chests  of 
wedding  gifts  from  the  old  Mission.  Oh,  it  was  all 
planned  for  the  one  big  revenge  on  Rafael  Arteaga. 
But  he  saw  you,  and  so — " 

"And  that  priest  saved  me  from  them,  Anita  ?  " 

"Yes,  he  saved  you  —  the  priest — and  sent  you  back 
to  your  friends,  and  sent  the  men  across  the  mesas  — 
because  you  were  Estevan's  daughter.  But  he  did  not 
try  to  save  Rafael's  horses;  that  night  many  of  the 
finest  were  headed  eastward  and  never  came  back." 

"And  if — if  the  padre  had  not  been  there  at  the 
right  moment,  I  — " 

"  It  is  not  a  nice  story,  at  all,"  acknowledged  Ana. 
"  They  are  rough  men.  One  of  them  would  have  mar 
ried  you,  and  you  would  never  have  cared  to  see  your 
friends  again,  and  Rafael  never  would  have  found  you." 

C'93] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Mother  of  God!  He  hates  Rafael  like  that,  yet 
lets  him  live  ?  " 

Ana  laughed  a  little  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"  Capitan  is  like  that,"  she  observed.  "  No  one  is 
like  him.  If  Rafael's  life  were  in  danger  this  hour, 
Capitan  would  ride  to  save  him.  Oh,  he  does  not 
mean  that  he  shall  die  while  young,  and  handsome, 
and  rich,  and  beloved  ! " 

Her  tone  had  a  little  hard  ring  for  a  moment;  her 
eyes  were  sparkling  with  a  certain  admiration  for  the 
character  she  was  describing.  The  story  had  brought 
the  color  back  to  Raquel's  face,  and  she  listened  fever 
ishly.  What  strange,  strange  things  could  be  possible 
in  the  smiling  valleys  of  San  Juan  !  For  the  moment 
she  forgot  the  dull  ache  in  her  heart  which  had  driven 
her  to  ride  alone  back  to  sanctuary. 

"And  you  know  all  this,  Anita;  even  the  words  of 
the  padre!  How?" 

She  caught  Ana's  hands  in  hers  impetuously,  and 
made  her  look  in  her  eyes. 

"He  told  me,"  said  her  friend,  simply. 

"  Then  you  know  him  ?     You  see  him  sometimes? " 

"Sometimes." 

"And  he  is  called  —  ?" 

"  Libertad." 

"Padre    Libertad  —  the  Liberated?     I   never  have 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF 
heard    him    spoken    of.     Where 


R A  FA  EL 

can  I    find  him  ? 


Anita,  I  will  go  alone,  but  this  feud  shall  be  ended. 
He  will  help  me.  And  I  —  I  never  knew  what  he 
saved  me  from  that  night.  I  scarcely  thanked  him. 
He  was  so  strange,  so  abrupt,  so  masterful,  I  accepted 
all  he  did,  and  never  knew !  Tell  me.  Anita.  I  will 
go  to  him —  I  will — " 

"  No  one  goes  to  him,"  said  Ana.  "  He  never  stays 
in  one  place.  If  you  see  him,  you  see  him — but — " 

"  But  he  comes  to  San  Juan? " 

"  Oh,  yes,  he  comes  to  San  Juan  once  a  year  at 
least,  so  they  will  not  forget  him." 

Ana's  lips  curled  in  a  little  smile,  quickly  suppressed. 

"  But,  Anita,  that  he  tells  you  all  these  things,  so 
that  you  know  the  reasons  of  Capitan — " 

"  Oh,  Capitan  is  a  sort  of  cousin  of  our  family. 
Even  when  he  is  outcast,  I  do  not  want  him  to  lose 
his  soul;  so  I  —  my  people  do  not  know —  but  always 
I  pay  for  a  mass  when  I  hear  that  the  robbers  have 
killed  a  man.  I  never  think  that  Capitan  would  like 
to  kill;  still,  it  might  happen.  So  I  remember — as 
I  remembered  him  when  I  was  a  little  girl,  and  when  I 
was  married — and  I  pay  for  a  mass,  that  is  all." 

"I  am  glad  to-night,  very  glad  you  tell  me  all  this, 
Anita.  Not  glad  that  it  is  so,  but,  thanks  to  God,  it 
:s  something  to  do  —  to  do  —  to  do !  " 

['95] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"And  what?"  asked  Ana,  regarding  her  curiously. 
Heretofore  the  wife  of  Rafael  had  appeared  to  her 
self-restrained  and  cold,  but  to-night  — 

Raquel  caught  her  hand  and  pressed  it,  and  laughed. 

"You  are  saving  me  to-night,  Anita,  and  you  do 
not  know  it,"  she  said,  with  feverish  intensity.  "  I  was 
unhappy  when  I  rode  to  your  door ;  so  tired  of  all  the 
world  that  I  could  think  of  nothing  sweeter  than  to  ride 
on  and  on  to  the  sea,  and  into  it,  and  go  to  sleep  there." 

"Raquel!     That  is  a  mortal  sin!" 

"So  it  is,  but  I  shall  do  penance,  and  when  the 
padre  comes  again,  O  my  dear  Ana,  you  alone  will  not 
pay  for  the  masses;  we  can  do  many  things  for  good 
together,  you  and  I.  You  must  come  to  me  to  the 
Mission;  you  must!  I  have  had  many  things  to  fight 
alone,  Anita,  and  I  never  can  tell  you  what  they  are. 
But  this  new  thing  we  can  fight  together,  darling — 
you  for  your  relation  and  I  for  my  husband  and  my 
promise ;  and,  the  saints  helping  us,  we  shall  win, 
Anita,  and  it  will  all  come  right;  and  thanks  to  God  I 
came  to  you  this  night ! " 

Her  eyes  were  alight  with  excitement,  her  cheeks 
flushed  and  burning.  Once  or  twice  she  shivered 
slightly;  and  Ana,  who  had  been  reassured  by  the 
beautiful  color  so  quickly  replacing  the  pallor  of  the 
cheeks,  grew  all  at  once  apprehensive,  as  she  noticed 


SO  U L     OF    RAFAEL 

that  the  hands  of  Raquel  were  very  cold  indeed,  and 
that  her  laugh  was  nervous,  and  that  her  teeth  chattered, 
and  that  the  words  she  tried  to  utter  grew  indistinct. 

"Holy  Mary!  I  have  given  her  a  fever,"  gasped 
Ana.  "That  my  tongue  had  been  blistered,  before  I 
babbled  all  that  to  her!  Raquel,  for  the  love  of  God 
don't  shake  like  that,  and  don't  laugh  at  me!  Stop 
it !  The  laugh  is  the  worst  of  all !  Raquel  —  Raque- 
lita  —  darling  mine  ! " 

But  Ana's  frenzy  of  fear  was  so  irresistibly  funny, 
that  Raquel  continued  to  laugh,  and  the  laughter  grew 
louder  after  the  other  women  were  called  in,  and  helped 
to  undress  her  and  wrap  her  in  blankets  to  smother  the 
chill.  That  night,  candles  never  went  out  in  the  house, 
and  Ana  knelt  before  the  altar  with  prayers  to  the  saints 
that  they  might  undo  the  folly  of  her  tongue.  But 
old  Polonia  knelt  instead  by  the  couch  of  Raquel  and 
cursed  the  American,  that  he  had  not  died  there  in 
Mexico. 

In  the  early  dawn  Polonia  crept  unseen  to  the  aquia, 
and  of  soft  clay  made  an  image  of  him,  and  thrust  pins 
through  every  vital  portion  of  it,  that  there  might  be 
no  chance  left  of  life  in  the  man  it  represented;  then, 
having  finished  her  work,  she  left  it  where  the  sun 
would  dry  it,  and  crept  back  to  the  room  and  curled  up 
on  a  rug,  and  slept  the  sleep  of  the  content. 

[-97] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

The  good  holy  water  she  had  paid  money  for  had 
failed.  But  there  are  always  two  ways.  If  the  saints 
refuse  to  help,  there  is  always  the  devil  left.  If  the 
padres  did  not  get  more  effective  holy  water,  whose 
fault  was  it  that  poor  souls  had  to  seek  help  elsewhere? 
She  would  do  penance,  of  course,  after  the  man  died, 
and  perhaps  pay  for  a  mass,  and  that  would  make  it  all 
right  for  everybody,  and  was  so  easy !  She  went  to  sleep 
wondering  if  he  would  die  from  a  slow  lingering  disease, 
or  how  it  would  be.  It  was  inconvenient  that  one  was 
not  allowed  to  select  the  very  way  the  end  must  come. 
But  the  devil  would  know  what  she  would  like  best, — 
that  the  foot  of  his  horse  might  go  down  in  a  gopher- 
hole  and  pitch  him  on  his  head  just  so  that  the  neck 
would  break,  quick,  like  the  snapping  of  a  finger.  And 
no  one  would  ever  guess  how  it  had  been  brought 
about ! 


CHAPTER  XI 


made  of  Castillian 


the  herb  family,  were  brewed 
and  steamed  in  the  kitchen  of 
the  ranch  for  the  saving  of  Ra- 
quel  from  the  grasp  of  a  strength- 
sapping  fever. 


U\ 


Conscience-stricken,  Ana  fought  and  argued  against 
sending  for  Rafael.  Every  hour  of  the  day  and  night 
she  was  willing  to  watch  and  work,  if  only  Raquel's 
illness  might  pass  without  the  cause  of  it  being  known; 
and  she  was  certain  that  the  cause  was  the  shock  of 
learning  how  narrowly  she  had  escaped  kidnapping  at 
the  hands  of  Rafael's  enemy. 

Sometimes,  indeed,  Raquel  did  murmur  in  her  sleep 
of  "  Padre  Libertad  "  and  the  water  surging  over  her 
head;  and  then  again  it  was  "the  altar  —  the  altar  — 

L'99] 


fc 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  the  blood  on  the  tiles  of  the  temple"  ;  then  "the 
ring — the  ring — the  ring."  Sometimes  she  would 
moan  that  the  beautiful  one  with  the  happiness  must 
not  receive  the  ring — never  the  ring  of  Aztec  witch 
ery  !  Then  her  words  would  trail  along  in  inarticulate 
whispers,  and  sink  into  brief  periods  of  slumber. 

Old  Polonia,  listening  and  watching,  heard  all.  Of 
Padre  Libertad  and  the  dream  of  the  water  she  cared 
not  anything.  Of  the  ring  she  understood,  and  was 
afraid  lest  a  name  be  uttered.  But  when  the  girl 
moaned  of  the  blood  on  the  altar  and  on  the  floor  of 
the  temple,  the  old  creature  dropped  in  a  cowering 
heap  and  screamed  with  fear,  and  begged  with  tears 
that  the  husband  would  come,  and  that  a  padre  must 
come,  for  it  was  all  of  no  use  to  do  any  more  of  any 
thing;  and  that  the  mother  of  Dona  Raquel  had  come 
from  —  from  death,  to  tell  of  hidden  things  to  her 
daughter,  and  it  meant  that  death  was  in  the  home 
with  them,  and  that  Dona  Raquel  would  never  again 
sing  with  the  birds,  or  gallop  across  the  mesas ! 

Ana,  trembling  with  fright  and  this  assurance,  almost 
smothered  old  Polonia,  that  the  others  might  not  hear 
the  wild  prophecy,  but  without  further  delay  she  sent 
a  letter  to  Rafael,  and  the  man  who  bore  it  was  to 
spare  neither  horses  nor  himself  on  the  errand. 

The  man  rode  well,  and  made  only  one  halt  to 
[200] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF 

change  a  horse  at  a  ranch.  The  sheriff  of  Los  An 
geles  County,  and  many  owners  of  ranches,  were  there. 
The  sheriff  looked  at  the  rider  and  his  reeking  horse 
carefully. 

"From  where  do  you  come?"  he  asked,  and  the 
man  jerked  his  thumb  toward  the  south. 

"  San  Joaquin." 

"What 'sup  there?" 

"Not  anything,  senor." 

It  never  entered  his  head  that  a  woman  sick  at  the 
San  Joaquin  ranch  would  have  interest  for  a  party  of 
horsemen  who  looked  as  if  out  for  a  hunt.  But  the 
party  exchanged  glances.  One  of  them,  a  farmer  who 
knew  him,  stepped  forward. 

"Where  do  you  ride  in  such  haste,  if  nothing  is 


up 


?"  he  asked. 


"  I  take  a  letter  to  Don  Rafael ;  his  wife  is  sick." 

"Where?" 

"  At  San  Joaquin  ranch,  senor.     Adios  !  " 

He  had  his  foot  in  the  stirrup,  when  the  sheriff  laid 
his  hand  on  his  arm. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  he  said,  quietly.  "  I  think  it  is  said 
that  a  picnic  is  given  to-day  by  Senora  Downing  for 
Dona  Raquel  Arteaga  who  is  visiting  in  Los  Angeles. 
How  can  she  be  at  the  same  time  at  the  San  Joaquin 
ranch?" 


••     • 


#5 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  know  not  anything  of  the  picnic,  seftor,  but  I 
know  a  woman  rode  her  horse  into  the  ranch  at  dark 
last  night,  and  they  say  it  is  Dofla  Raquel  Arteaga;  and 
she  has  a  fever,  and  screams  and  laughs  all  night  in  the 
room  of  Dona  Ana.  I  know,  for  I  am  called  after  I 
am  asleep,  to  get  wood  for  a  fire.  No  one  sleeps,  and 
outside  the  window  I  hear  all  what  she  screams,  and  it 
is  enough  to  freeze  the  blood, —  all  of  altars  where  blood 
is,  and  a  ring  that  she  cries  for ;  and  I  am  glad  to  get 
away  and  ride  for  Rafael  Arteaga." 

"Rather  thin,  isn't  it,  all  of  that  story?  "  remarked 
one  of  the  ranchmen.  "  Bryton,  when  we  asked  you 
to  join  us  did  n't  you  stop  to  send  word  to  the  Down- 
ings  that  you  could  n't  attend  their  little  celebration 
in  the  hills?" 

"Yes." 

Bryton  had  turned  from  the  others  and  was  rolling 
a  cigarro.  He  replied  without  looking  up  from  his 
task. 

"And  it  was  given  in  honor  of  Dona  Raquel  Arteaga 
and  the  bishop?" 

"I  understood  so." 

"Understood?  Why,  that  was  the  reason  Arteaga 
gave  for  refusing  to  come  along,"  broke  in  one  of  the 
other  men.  "I  heard  him." 

"  That 's  so ;  I  did  too,  and  I  thought  at  the  time  a 
[202] 


FOR  THE  SOUL  OF  RAFAEL 
picnic  for  a  woman  and  a  priest  was  a  mighty  small 
excuse  to  give  for  evading  —  " 

"  Careful !  "  And  the  sheriff  shot  a  warning  glance  at 
the  speaker.  "A  newly  married  man  was  excused,  even 
in  Bible  times,  from  going  to  the  wars,  so  Arteaga's 
reason  is  all  right." 

"Just  a  moment,"  said  Bryton.  "  I  am  as  certain  as 
it  is  possible  to  be  of  anything  one  does  not  see,  that 
the  boy  tells  the  truth.  She  is  there,  and  she  is  ill.  Let 
him  take  the  message." 

"What  makes  you  think  so?"  and  the  sheriff  eyed 
him  carefully.  Bry ton's  jaw  set  stolidly,  though  his 
face  flushed. 

"I  know  it;  that's  all,"  he  said,  briefly,  as  he  turned 
away. 

"But  —  " 

"The  boy  is  speaking  the  truth;  I  know  it! " 

The  sheriff  looked  after  him  a  moment,  and  then 
spoke  to  one  of  the  others. 

"  Just  keep  the  boy  here  a  bit  until  I  can  see  clearer," 
he  said,  "  if  Bryton  knows." 

He  tramped  after  Bryton,  who  was  going  for  his  own 
horse  tied  in  the  shadow  of  a  pepper  tree. 

"Bryton,  tell  me  how  you  know!" 

"  I  can't  do  it.  Take  my  word  or  ignore  it,  as  you 
like." 

[203] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  But,  hell,  man!  it  is  not  your  word;  it  is  only  your 
impression  !  Give  me  your  word  as  to  how  you  know 
it,  and  I  '11  take  it  quick.  I  suppose  it's  some  inside 
family  history  you  Ve  dropped  on ;  but  the  lady  is  at 
Los  Angeles,  and  it  is  some  other  woman  they  are 
nursing  at  the  ranch  and  deceiving  the  servants  about. 
That  is  my  theory.  There  are  some  women  mixed 
up  with  that  Flores  outfit,  and  I  happen  to  know  that 
El  Capitan,  who  is  the  brain  of  the  gang,  is  related  to 
the  folks  at  that  ranch.  Now,  is  it  reasonable  to  think 
that  Arteaga's  wife  would  ride  at  dark,  alone,  over  this 
country  where  hold-ups  are  so  common?  Would  he 
let  her?  Would  not  the  Downings  have  known?" 

"They  probably  did  know,  and  Rafael  Arteaga 
certainly  did,"  returned  Bryton,  impatiently.  "Their 
picnic  was  more  a  matter  of  policy  than  a  pleasure  party. 
They  wanted  the  bishop  there,  to  put  an  end  to  that 
church  fight.  They  wanted  Dona  Raquel  Arteaga  to 
serve  as  an  attraction  and  help  them.  She  has  abso 
lutely  refused  all  along  to  assist  with  any  compromise ; 
and  to  avoid  it  this  time  she  has  evidently  ridden  quietly 
out  of  Los  Angeles,  and  her  husband,  who  wanted  the 
picnic  very  much,  has  kept  her  absence  a  secret." 

"  But  if  she  is  as  sick  as  this  boy  says,  how  could 
she  take  a  thirty-mile  ride  on  horseback?" 

Bryton  made  a  gesture  of  impatience. 
[204] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"She  is  there!"  he  insisted.  "I  —  I  feel  that  she  is 
there.  The  sooner  you  let  the  boy  ride  for  Arteaga 
and  the  doctor,  the  less  likely  she  is  to  die." 

"  Doctor !     Did  he  say  anything  about  a  doctor  ? " 

"No." 

"You  see,  if  the  woman  was  very  ill,  the  fellow 
would  say  it  was  a  doctor  he  was  riding  for." 

"No;  it  would  be  a  priest.  These  women  do  their 
own  doctoring.  If  herb  teas  and  prayers  can't  save  a 
life,  it  is  let  die.  Good  God  !  She  may  be  dying  now 
while  we  talk.  Let  the  boy  go  1 " 

"Well,  I'll  be  damned  !" 

The  sheriff  was  staring  at  Bryton,  whose  face  was 
white  and  set.  He  was  untying  his  horse,  with  quick 
decided  movements,  and  cinching  up  the  girth. 

"If  you  don't  send  the  boy  on  that  errand,  I  '11  go 
myself,"  he  said,  curtly. 

"  Well  —  I  '11  be  —  "  The  sheriff  broke  his  sentence 
midway,  to  stare  at  Bryton  in  amazement.  "What  the 
devil  is  it  to  you?"  he  demanded.  "Arteaga  is  no 
bosom  friend  of  yours,  is  he?" 

"  Not  that  I  know  of.  If  the  boy  doesn't  go,  I  go! 
The  girl  may  be  dying,  and  the  help  she  wants,  she  's 
going  to  get.  Speak  up!" 

He  was  in  the  saddle,  and  the  sheriff,  with  one  look 
at  him,  walked  back  to  the  group. 

[205] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


Boy,  do  you  carry  only  a  message 


Don  Rafael 
written  letter?" 
d  Dofia  1 


raise 


Arteaga?"  he  demanded,  "or  is 

"A  letter,"  said  he,  sullenly, 
the  hell  if  you  don't  let  me  take  it." 

"Ah!  The  Dofia  Ana!  I  thought  so.  Dona  Ana 
is  an  interesting  little  lady.  Let  me  see  the  letter." 

The  man  hesitated,  but  finally  pulled  the  letter  from 
his  pocket.  The  sheriff  took  it  and  walked  back  to 
Bryton. 

"  I  'm  humoring  your  queer  notion  all  I  know  how," 
he  observed;  "for  I  want  you  south  with  us  instead  of 
taking  the  back  trail.  You  read  Spanish;  the  letter  is 
not  sealed.  Read  it." 

Bryton  read  it  aloud,  slowly.  Ana  had  not  minced 
her  words. 

"  RAFAEL  ARTEAGA  :  — 

"For  the  love  of  God,  come  quick  to  Raquel. 
Among  us,  some  way,  I  think  we  have  killed  her. 
That  she  is  too  good  for  you  is  no  reason  that 
you  should  let  her  ride  alone  with  a  heart-break. 
I  think  myself  she  does  not  want  to  live  any  more, 
—  and  no  medicine  cures  that.  Maybe  you  cannot 
cure  it  either,  but  it  is  your  place  to  be  here  if  she 
dies. 

"Your  cousin, 

"ANA  CARMENCITA  MENDEZ." 
[206] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"You  see,"  said  Bryton,  handing  it  back.  "I  told 
you." 

"I  see,"  conceded  the  sheriff.  "It  reads  all  right, 
but  there  is  always  a  chance  of — "  He  folded  the 
paper  thoughtfully,  and  stared  hard  at  the  ground. 
"This  is  all  a  ticklish  business,  Bryton,  and  if 
Flores's  friends  have  got  wind  of  this  little  pasear 
of  ours,  they  may  send  all  sorts  of  scare  messages 
where  they  will  do  most  good.  These  greasers  have 
tricks  of  their  own,  and  most  of  them  are  cousins  — 
see? " 

"  I  see ;  but  that  is  not  a  message  of  that  sort. 
Does  the  boy  take  it,  or  do  I  ? " 

"  The  boy  takes  it,  and  I  '11  send  a  man  with  him 
to  be  sure  he  takes  that  message  and  no  other;  and 
you,  if  you  are  so  keen  for  the  road,  can  ride  south 
and  investigate  before  Cousin  Ana  can  expect  any 
reply  to  her  message." 

"I — ride  alone  to  San  Joaquin  ranch  ?  " 

"  That 's  it !  You  Ve  got  the  best  horse  in  the 
bunch.  If  the  whole  outfit  rides  in,  they'll  get  scared, 
but  one  man  alone  on  his  way  to  San  Juan,  that 
looks  all  right.  You  may  chance  on  things  worth 
while,  when  we  finally  catch  up." 

"But  there  are  other  men — men  who  know  the 
family  better." 

[207] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Not  one  would  be  so  apt  to  note  the  points  we 
need.  The  family  is  square,  but  of  Cousin  Ana  there 
have  been  some  curious  things  said.  She  is  the  one 
of  the  lot  who  openly  claims  El  Capitan  as  cousin. 
That 's  all  we  really  know,  but  keep  your  eyes  open." 

"  Let  me  see  the  letter  again." 

The  sheriff  handed  it  to  him  and  looked  at  him 
curiously  as  he  half  turned  away  to  read  it,  and  his 
eyes  sought  out  the  one  statement:  "I  think  myself 
she  does  not  want  to  live  any  more,  and  no  medicine 
cures  that.  Maybe  you  cannot  cure  it  either,  but  it 
is  your  place  to  be  here  if  she  dies." 

He  pulled  his  hat  low  over  his  eyes  and  gathered 
up  the  reins. 

"All  right,"  he  said,  briefly.     "I  will  go.     Adios!" 

A  little  later,  and  only  a  cloud  of  dust  marked  the 
way  in  the  south  that  he  had  gone;  and  the  mist  in 
his  eyes,  hidden  so  well  from  the  sheriff,  was  dashed 
away  by  his  hand,  but  came  back  again  and  again. 

"  It  is  your  place  to  be  here  if  she  dies,"  he 
repeated,  grimly, — "  my  Dona  Espiritu  —  my  beloved! 
The  message  was  written  to  him,  but  fate  sent  it  first 
to  me,  and  I  —  I  will  be  with  you  to-night.  You  will 
not  be  again  alone  with  the  heart-break." 


Indian  Torture  Chant. 
3 


3 

NH    I      I 


CHAPTER   XII 


a 


U 

1 


* 
OWARD  evening  Raquel   grew 

more  quiet,  and  Ana,  seeing 
that  the  fever  was  abating,  gave 
herself  much  blame  for  sending 
in  such  haste  for  Rafael ;  and 
what  she  had  written  to  him 
only  the  good  saints  could 
tell,  for  she  had  been  so  frightened  she  had  possibly 
told  him  unpleasant  things ! 

However,  all  things  could  be  endured  if  only 
Raquel  would  open  her  eyes  in  reason  once  more, 
and  lift  the  load  of  self-blame  from  the  heart  of  Ana. 

Not  only  the  young  girls,  but  the  mistress  as 
well,  kept  a  respectful  distance  from  the  room  where 
Raquel  lay,  adjoining  the  hall.  Her  moans  and 
strange  words  had  filled  them  with  dread,  but  no 
more  so  than  had  the  grovelling  fear  of  the  old 
Indian  woman.  All  day  she  had  crouched  at  the  door 
like  a  patient  animal,  waiting  the  end.  Sometimes 

[209] 


"^M^ 

11 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 


L 


she  muttered  to  herself  in  queer  Indian  words,  some 
times  she  crept  to  the  couch  of  Dona  Raquel  for  a 
little  while,  and  then  back  again  to  the  door,  always 
mumbling  or  praying,  and  always  insisting  that  the 
mother  of  Raquel  had  come  from  the  grave  to  tell 
things,  and  that  the  last  of  the  kings  was  gone  now 
for  always ! 

Any  attempt  at  a  question,  any  interpretation  of 
her  mutterings,  would  arouse  her  to  a  realization 
that  she  was  among  new  people  in  a  strange  land, 
and  her  lips  would  shut  in  a  straight  line,  to  be  kept 
shut  so  long  as  she  was  conscious  of  their  presence. 

The  Indian  servants  crept  past  the  door,  with 
fearful  eyes  fixed  in  dread.  She  was  of  another  race 
and  another  tongue  than  their  own  forebears,  straight 
and  slender  even  in  her  old  age;  darkest  reddish- 
bronze  in  color,  while  a  San  Juan  grandmother  was 
always  fat,  and  nearly  always  black.  Beside  them, 
Polonia  looked  almost  Caucasian.  Yet  she  proudly 
denied  any  white  blood;  she  was  an  Indian  of  a  hill 
tribe  of  the  south,  the  name  of  which  she  would  not 
utter. 

All  this,  and  her  mutterings,  and  the  wild  words 
of  her  mistress,  put  terror  into  the  heart  of  the  San 
Joaquin  household.  The  girls  huddled  together  and 
whispered  tales  of  witches  and  ghosts,  and  thought 

[210] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

she  looked  like  each  in  turn ;  and  Dona  Ana  got 
great  credit  for  courage  in  staying  in  the  room  with 
her  in  the  night-time. 

But  all  their  vague  fears  were  changed  to  a 
definite  terror  when  one  of  the  Indian  children 
found  the  clay  image  by  the  aquia,  and  in  its  yet 
moist  members  all  the  pins,  for  the  stealing  of  which 
half  the  children  around  the  ranch  had  that  morning 
received  a  taste  of  the  rope's  end. 

Such  a  gray-faced,  wailing  lot  as  scampered  up 
from  the  aquia!  Girls  screaming,  old  women  wail 
ing,  and  the  mothers  herding  the  children  out  of 
reach  of  the  accursed  thing! 

All  was  explained  now,  about  the  sudden  awful 
sickness  of  the  Dofla  Raquel!  The  Indian  woman 
from  the  south  was  a  very  devil!  Dona  Raquel 
had  perhaps  had  to  whip  her  some  time,  and  she  had 
waited  until  she  was  with  her  in  a  strange  house  to 
do  this  thing :  that  was  why  she  crouched  at  the  door 
as  if  on  guard ;  she  was  afraid  some  one  might 
enter  to  pray,  or  with  holy  water,  or  any  of  the 
helps  of  the  saints.  And  after  the  life  had  gone  from 
Dofta  Raquel,  who  could  tell  that  she  might  not  kill 
others,  even  all  of  them  on  the  ranch?  Since  she  had 
in  one  hour's  time  changed  her  mistress  from  a  well 
woman  to  a  crazy  woman  who  laughed,  how  long 

[2.,] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

would  it  take  to  do  the  same  for  a  dozen?      Not  a 
day!     In  a  week  she  could  kill  them  all! 

Panic  seized  the  entire  herd.  They  raced  in  terror 
for  the  ranch-house  and  overwhelmed  the  mistress 
with  their  fears.  Her  daughters  clung  together,  white- 
faced  at  the  frenzy  facing  them.  The  men  were  out 
on  the  ranch  and  ranges ;  Don  Enrico  was  with  them, 
and  there  was  no  one  to  control  the  dark  mob  of 
fanatic  faces,  any  more  than  one  could  head  a  stam 
peding  herd  of  cattle:  that  was  what  terror  developed 
in  them  —  the  mad,  unreasoning  rush  of  animals  to 
trample  underfoot,  or  tear  to  pieces,  the  thing  they 
feared. 

The  mistress  could  only  gasp,  "Pray  to  God- 
pray  to  God!"  but  her  voice  was  lost  in  the  tumult 
of  the  wild  chorus.  It  was  too  late  for  prayers ; 
prayers  were  no  good  after  a  devil  had  got  hold 
of  any  one !  Then  there  was  only  one  thing  to  do, 
and  they  had  the  knife  for  the  meat  and  the  axe 
for  the  wood !  A  devil  could  be  burned  out,  or 
drowned  out,  and  there  was  not  water  enough  this 
side  of  the  sea  for  the  drowning ;  therefore  — 

In  vain  their  mistress  screamed,  and  her  daughters 
clung  to  the  bare  brown  arms  of  their  serving-women. 
They  were  thrown  aside  in  the  stampede  of  the  savage 
herd.  Let  the  lady  say  what  should  be  done  with 


!££-*-- 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

white  blood ;  but  this  was  an  Indian,  and  an  Indian 
of  a  strange  tribe  and  country  ! 

Even  in  their  panic  the  bovine  cowardly  herd 
remembered  that  fact ;  there  would  be  no  Indian 
relatives  of  the  witch  to  wreak  vengeance  on  them  ; 
she  was  the  devil's  own,  and  she  had  no  other 
kindred  ! 

They  tore  across  the  hall,  sacred  at  other  times  to 
the  family,  and  Ana,  rising  in  wonder  at  the  tumult, 
was  met  at  the  door  by  the  mob.  She  retreated  to  the 
couch  of  Raquel,  with  outstretched  arms  to  protect 
her  guest,  as  she  commanded  that  they  be  gone. 

Her  words  were  scarcely  heard.  At  the  door, 
crouching,  and  with  covered  head,  they  found  her 
they  wanted,  and  dragged  her  unresisting  through  the 
hall  and  out  into  the  open. 

The  mistress,  sick  and  half  fainting,  stumbled  to 
her  own  room,  and  cowered  at  the  altar,  with  one 
daughter  clinging  to  her  and  sobbing,  while  the  other 
stood  at  the  portal  of  the  patio  and  called  for  some 
of  the  boys,  or  a  man,  or  horse  for  any  one  who  could 
ride  for  help  and  stop  the  horror. 

"Mother  of  God!  They  make  the  fire!"  she 
screamed. 

It  was  true.  They  were  dragging  the  wood  and 
making  ready  for  a  fire.  Children  followed  their 


\m 
\m& 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

mothers,  gathering  leaves  and  straw.  One  black- 
skinned  creature  had  brought  a  shovel  of  coals,  and 
was  lying  prone  on  the  ground  beside  it,  blowing  it 
with  her  breath  until  it  glowed  and  sent  demoniac 
lights  into  her  heavy-lidded  eyes.  One  old  hag  held 
the  devil's  witness,  the  clay  image,  before  the  accused, 
and  after  one  brief  look  Polonia  made  no  struggle. 
It  was  fate;  she  had  known  from  the  feverish  words 
of  Dona  Raquel  that  some  one  must  die  as  sacrifice. 

Then  she  began  to  croon  a  strange  whining  chant, 
and  the  hands  of  those  holding  her  fell  away  in  sud 
den  terror  of  even  the  touch  of  her.  Slowly  she 
stumbled  to  her  feet,  and  looked  at  the  sun,  and 
raising  her  old  hands  toward  its  lowering  light,  waved 
them  to  and  fro  in  weird  salutation,  never  checking 
the  strange  song  or  chant. 

Ana  had  a  pistol,  and  stood  in  wavering  uncer 
tainty  as  to  whether  she  should  run  out,  or  stay  on 
guard  beside  Raquel;  but  to  the  final  adjuration  she 
responded  as  one  suddenly  aroused  from  a  stupor  of 
fear,  and  rushing  to  the  little  plaza  she  screamed 
loudly  and  then  fired  two  shots  in  quick  succession ; 
then  after  a  deliberate  little  pause  she  fired  once 
more,  and  with  pale  cheeks  turned  toward  the  door, 
trembling,  and  waiting. 

"  God  be  praised !      See,  help  is  coming,"  gasped 

C*«4] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Juanita,  pointing  northward.  "Good!  The  dust  — 
the  man  on  the  horse  —  and  how  he  rides  —  how  he 
rides  ! " 

Ana  watched  the  rider,  fascinated  and  weak  with 
terror.  Juanita  was  laughing  and  crying  with  joy,  but 
her  cousin  stood  pale  and  motionless,  and  said  not  a 
word  as  the  horseman  swept  past  the  garden  to  the 
back  of  the  house,  where  smoke  was  rolling  up  in  a 
white  cloud. 

He  was  none  too  soon.  The  fire  was  leaping  in 
long  tongues  from  the  crackling  sycamore  boughs. 
The  dark  faces  of  the  fanatics  were  alight  with  frenzied 
eagerness  for  their  pious  task  of  destroying  a  witch 
before  they  might  be  interfered  with.  They  had 
heard  the  screams  and  shots,  and  knew  what  they 
meant,  and  the  log  they  were  tying  the  witch  to  was 
held  upright  by  many  willing  hands. 

Her  hands  were  already  tied  together;  there  was 
nothing  left  to  do  but  fasten  a  rope  around  her  at  the 
waist,  and  toss  both  log  and  witch  into  the  hottest 
corner. 

And  then  Juanita  ran  screaming  toward  the  group, 
and  back  of  her  rode  a  man  on  a  fiend  of  a  horse, 
knocking  the  pious  devotees  right  and  left,  and  caught 
up  the  limp  figure  of  old  Polonia  and  flung  it  on  the 
saddle  in  front  of  him. 


I        I 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

She  opened  her  eyes  and  looked  at  him  once  as  he 
raised  her  from  the  ground,  and  then  closed  them 
and  looked  no  more.  It  was  all  of  no  use  —  neither 
the  holy  water  to  keep  away  the  thought  of  him, 
nor  the  witchcraft  to  take  the  life  from  him.  It 
was  the  accursed  Americano,  and  the  charm  had  only 
served  to  bring  him  more  quickly ! 

After  the  first  staggering  blow  from  the  stranger's 
horse,  some  of  the  stronger  spirits  rallied,  and  lunged 
forward  to  drag  the  woman  from  her  rescuer,  while 
others  lashed  his  horse  that  it  might  become  uncon 
trollable.  Two  able-bodied  wenches  held  on  like 
grim  death,  despite  the  quirt  which  he  brought  down 
across  their  shoulders  again  and  again,  while  he  held 
the  horse  and  Polonia  with  one  arm. 

The  animal,  between  the  lashing  of  the  mob  and 
the  roaring  of  the  flames,  was  leaping  madly,  and  the 
rider  had  all  he  could  do  to  control  its  terror.  Any 
moment  a  shot,  or  a  club,  or  a  stone  thrown  at  his 
own  head  might  give  them  two  victims  instead  of  one. 
That  was  Juanita's  one  wild  fear.  She  screamed  for 
Ana  with  the  pistol,  but  Ana  had  sunk  down,  white 
and  trembling  on  the  doorstep,  as  she  saw  a  black 
form  suddenly  appear  in  the  midst  of  the  howling  mob 
of  savages.  An  instant  she  saw  him  on  the  outer 
edge  of  the  leaping,  struggling  circle,  and  the  next  he 


SICJE 


FOR 


THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


was  by  the  head  of  the  horse,  and  a  strong  arm  struck 
right  and  left  until  there  was  space  enough  to  show 
he  was  a  bronzed,  bearded  man  in  a  priest's  habit. 

"Back  to  your  kennels,  dogs!"  he  cried,  sharply. 
"  Since  when  have  ye  dared  strike  at  gentlemen  ?  On 
your  knees,  every  one  of  you  !  On  your  knees  ! " 

The  younger  girls  and  children  dropped  in  the  dust, 
but  some  of  the  older  were  less  willing  to  give  up. 

"She  is  a  witch,  father;  she  is  killing  a  woman," 
cried  one;  "it  is  right  a  devil  be  put  in  the  fire!" 

"Then  how  hot  must  the  fire  be  made  when  your 
day  comes  !"  he  replied,  and  raised  his  hand  and  spoke 
slowly,  solemnly,  "Thrice  heated  will  that  fire  be 
for  the  thrice-accursed  !  To  your  knees,  in  the  name 
of  God!" 

With  sullen,  shamed,  disappointed  faces,  they 
obeyed.  A  white  man  who  is  a  stranger  they  dared 
attack,  if  enough  of  them  were  together,  but  not  a 
priest — a  priest  who  could  hit  hard  enough  to  knock 
a  bull  down. 

"That  was  a  close  shave,  padre,"  observed  the 
American,  with  a  breath  of  relief.  "  They  had  this 
poor  old  wretch  almost  pulled  in  two  —  will  you  take 
her?" 

The  priest  made  a  step  forward,  and  then  halted 
and  smiled,  as  in  vague  perplexity. 

[217] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

"  I   have  not  the  pleasure  of  understanding  Eng 
lish,"  he  said,  gently. 

very 
priest 


Ana 


arose 


and 


she 


still 


in 


ic  forward;    sne  was 
pale  and    still    trembling;    she  looked 
and  tried  to  speak,  but  the  words  were  smothered 
a  half  sob. 

"  My  daughter,"  he  said,  quietly,  "take  courage." 
Then  he  glanced  at  the  pistol  still  in  her  hand.  "It 
was  you  who  fired  ?  That  was  right.  I  was  on  the 
hill  in  the  edge  of  the  wood,  and  it  is  well  you  sent 
that  warning.  Your  American  friend  said  —  ?  " 

"  Oh,  I  speak  a  little  Spanish  too,"  remarked  Bry- 
ton,  in  that  tongue;  "it  is  the  woman  with  the  tied 
hands  I  wanted  you  to  take." 

The  padre  did  so,  untying  the  rope  deftly,  and 
steadying  her  wavering  figure,  while  Bryton  slipped 
from  the  saddle,  and  spoke  to  Juanita,  who  had  the 
one  welcoming  face  he  had  seen. 

"I  know  you,"  she  said,  eagerly.  "Did  I  not  see 
you  at  San  Juan  Capistrano,  at  Alvara's  and  at  the 
Mission?  I  was  sure  of  it.  This  is  my  cousin 
Dofia  Ana  and  Father — " 

"  Libertad,"  the  padre  interrupted,  briefly,  and  spoke 
directly  to  Bryton,  "from  Mexico." 

"You  will  think  us  all  savages  to  allow  this, 
father,"  and  she  pointed  to  the  huddled  Indians 

[a  1 8] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  the  leaping  flames ;  "  but  it  was  all  so  quick  — 
like  that  —  no  one  could  think!  My  mother  is  in 
hiding  from  it,  and — " 

"  Father,"  said  Ana,  speaking  for  the  first  time,  "  a 
priest  is  needed  in  the  house.  We  have  a  woman 
who  may  be  dying.  Will  you  come  quickly?" 

She  was  eager  to  separate  the  priest  from  the  others, 
and  her  speech  was  nervous  and  eager. 

"  Dying  ?  "  he  repeated,  "  is  that  what  they  meant 
when  they  said  the  Indian  had  killed  a  woman  ? " 

"  Yes,  father,"  broke  in  the  quavering  tones  of  old 
Altagrazia,  "here  it  is  —  the  devil  she  made!"  and  she 
held  up  the  clay  image,  from  which  the  head  had  been 
broken  in  the  mel'ee.  "One  day  ago  the  lady  is  well 
and  rides  like  a  caballero,  and  this  day  the  sun  goes 
down  and  she  dies.  The  Indian  from  Mexico  put  on 
the  curse!  " 

Old  Polonia  understood,  and  screamed  denials  in 
her  native  tongue,  and  then  turned  to  the  padre  and 
pointed  to  the  American. 

"  It  is  that  man ! "  she  cried,  shrilly,  "  he  is  a 
devil!  He  does  not  die  —  not  for  anything!  And 
while  he  lives  he  breaks  the  heart  of  my  mistress.  It 
is  he ;  that  is  the  man !  Put  on  him  the  curse  of  the 
Church,  father !  Put  on  him  the  curse  to  send  him 
to  a  desert  where  he  never  can  find  a  road  again ! " 

[219] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

The  padre  smiled  grimly.  "  That  is  all  they  use 
their  religion  for  after  a  century  of  Christianity,"  he 
observed.  "They  still  stick  to  their  devil-worship, 
and  call  on  the  Church  only  when  they  want  maledic 
tions  or  absolution.  Woman,  you  talk  like  a  fool. 
Did  you  do  this?  " 

He  took  the  headless  clay  pin-cushion  and  held  it 
before  him.  Polonia  flashed  one  vindictive  glance  at 
him  and  then  nodded  her  head  sullenly.  It  was  bad 
luck  to  lie  to  a  padre. 

"  It  was  to  save  her,"  she  muttered,  "but  the  Ameri 
cano  is  a  devil,  and  nothing  kills  him." 

She  turned  one  glance  of  hate  and  fear  upon  her 
rescuer,  and  moved  toward  the  house. 

"  She  means  you  ?  "  asked  the  padre. 

"Oh,  she  is  crazy,  that  old  Indian,"  cried  Juanita ; 
"always  she  makes  me  afraid.  The  Senor  Bryton 
she  never  perhaps  has  seen  until  this  minute.  That 
is  her  thanks  that  he  pull  her  from  the  fire  !" 

The  padre  turned  for  one  level  look  at  the  pale 
face  of  Ana. 

"Your  name  is  Bryton?"  he  then  said,  quietly. 
"  Will  you,  Senor  Bryton,  see  that  these  savages  do 
not  attempt  another  roasting,  while  I  look  to  the 
woman  who  is  dying?  " 

Bryton  turned  to  Juanita. 
[220] 


f    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Is  it  so  bad  as  that  ? "    he  asked. 
Raquel  —  " 

"  We  think  she  is  better  this  evening ;  still,  it  may 
be  a  fever  coming  ;  one  never  knows.  Ah  !  there  are 
my  father  and  the  men." 

Don  Enrico  Cordoba  and  some  vaqueros  rode 
madly  through  the  corral  and  into  the  place  of  the 
huge  bonfire  and  the  still  kneeling  Indians.  Now 
that  their  white  heat  of  passion  was  over,  they  remem 
bered  only  the  beating  they  would  get,  and  crouched 
doggedly  where  the  padre  had  bidden  them ;  the 
younger  ones  wept  with  fear  when  Juanita  told  her 
father  the  story. 

"  Holy  God ! "  he  shouted  in  a  rage,  breaking  in 
on  her  recital.  "  In  my  house  to  trample  on  my 
family  and  drag  a  woman  to  the  fire  !  Tomas,  count 
every  head  and  remember  every  name.  In  three 
days  every  one  shall  be  tied  to  a  tree  and  whipped ;  if 
one  runs  away,  she  shall  be  caught  and  whipped  twice, 
—  once  here  on  the  ranch,  and  once  on  the  Mission 
plaza  of  San  Juan,  on  a  Sunday  after  mass.  You 
cattle,  you  dogs,  you  devils,  begone  from  my  sight ! " 

He  struck  right  and  left  with  the  green-hide  reata, 
spurring  his  horse  after  those  who  stumbled  along  too 
slowly  to  suit  him,  striking  old  and  young  alike  as 
they  ran  wailing  with  terror  at  the  promises  he  had 

[221] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

made  them,  and  which  they  knew  would  be  kept. 
The  Mexican  master  was  quite  as  prone  as  the  Indian 
servants  to  find  acute  methods  of  torture  or  punish 
ment. 

When  all  were  despatched  he  rode  back,  puffing 
and  laughing,  to  his  daughters  and  guest,  with  whom 
he  shook  hands  heartily. 

"  Holy  saints !  but  we  did  ride  when  we  saw  the 
smoke ;  it  looked  like  the  house  on  fire.  It  winds  a 
man,  a  ride  like  that  at  my  age,"  and  he  shook  his  fat 
sides  with  laughter.  "  Come  inside  and  have  a  glass 
of  whiskey,  Sefior  Bryton.  We  met  at  the  alcalde's 
last  year  when  the  army  officers  were  in  San  Juan  ? 
Yes,  I  thought  so.  I  am  glad  you  have  come  to 
my  house,  and — who  knows  —  you  maybe  saved  my 
wife  and  my  daughters  as  well  as  the  old  woman. 
When  these  savages  get  the  taste  of  blood,  they 
are  crazy  wolves,  never  fighters  in  the  open,  brave 
only  when  there  is  a  mob  like  that.  Come  in,  come 
in  !  Juanita,  go  tell  your  mother  we  have  a  guest 
who  has  saved  you  all.  What  was  it  you  said  of 
a  padre  ?  where  is  he  ?  " 

"  With  Dona  Raquel,  father." 

"  She  is  worse  ?  " 

"We  do  not  know,  but  thanks  to  the  Virgin,  she 
no  longer  laughs  or  cries.  Ana  is  there.  If  she  live 

[222] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

or  die,  we  all  feel  the  padre  has  come  if  the  husband 
do  not." 

"  Humph  !  Oh,  yes,  yes,  always  the  priests  !  "  he 
grunted.  "  Women  can't  keep  house  without  the 
padres.  I  think  I  build  a  chapel  for  my  women ; 
then  they  can  pray  all  the  time  to  be  sure  they  save 
my  soul,"  and  he  laughed  skeptically ;  then  he  tossed 
aside  his  sombrero,  and  brought  bottles  and  glasses  to 
a  little  table  of  marble  on  the  veranda.  "  Will  you 
have  whiskey,  or  the  bottle  of  wine?" 

"  I  prefer  your  own  wine  of  the  ranch,  Don  En 
rico,"  and  Bryton  poured  out  the  white  moselle,  of 
which  the  Cordoba  family  was  justly  proud ;  "  I  think 
the  padre  was  also  off  a  journey,  senor;  perhaps  a 
swallow  of  this  fine  wine  —  " 

"  Oh,  let  the  women  alone  to  look  after  the  wants 
of  the  padre,"  laughed  his  host.  "They  own  my 
house  whan  they  are  in  it,  though  sometimes  I  never 
see  them.  '  How  much  money  do  you  want?'  I 
say  when  they  come,  and  that  ends  my  business  with 
the  padres !  I  buy  and  sell  with  them  and  get  beaten 
at  monte  or  malilla,  but  I  let  women  do  the  praying 
with  them  !  Here  comes  my  wife.  Refugia,  this 
is  the  preserver  of  your  house,  the  Senor  Bryton. 
Have  some  whiskey,  dear ;  you  are  still  pale." 

"  Pale !     Never  shall  I  get  over  this  day.     Think 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

of  the  shame  of  it !  Dona  Raquel  Arteaga  has  been 
entertained  like  a  queen  by  the  bishop,  and  when  she 
honors  our  home,  her  servant  is  dragged  out  to  be 
burned !  The  word  will  go  out  that  we  are  savages. 
Enrico,  never  so  long  as  you  live  do  you  leave  this 
house  again  without  a  man  in  it ! " 

"  Surely  not.  Drink  the  whiskey,  dear,  and  be 
composed." 

Dona  Refugia  drank  the  fiery  liquor,  and  appeared 
to  enjoy  it  very  much,  but  it  had  not  a  quieting 
influence.  It  rather  helped  her  to  remember  and 
recount  all  the  details  of  her  own  stages  of  fear  during 
the  stampede  of  the  self-appointed  executioners. 

"After  the  night  we  all  had,"  she  lamented,  "to 
have  it  followed  by  such  a  day !  God  grant  that 
Dona  Raquel  slept  or  was  unconscious  through  it  all. 
Had  she  seen  those  fiends,  it  might  have  killed  her 
or  brought  back  the  fever.  Juanita  says  a  padre  has 
come,  which  is  the  one  lucky  thing." 

"  SefLor  Bryton  came  first,  which  was  a  more  lucky 
thing,"  said  her  husband ;  "  all  the  saints  could  not 
have  saved  the  woman  from  the  fire  if  he  had  not 
come  when  he  did.  Such  a  thing  has  not  happened 
here  in  this  valley  since  I  was  a  boy.  Have  some 
more  of  the  wine;  it  will  give  you  an  appetite  for 
supper." 


SO  U L     OF    RAFAEL 

At  the  mention  of  supper  his  wife  remembered  that 
all  the  help  of  the  kitchen  might  have  deserted  the 
premises  under  the  scourging  of  Don  Enrico's  reata, 
and  calling  the  girls  to  help,  she  left  the  gentlemen  to 
their  glasses. 

At  the  hall  she  halted  to  ask  after  Raquel,  and  in  the 
shadow  saw  her  niece  and  the  padre  talking  softly. 
Ana's  head  was  bent  as  though  weeping,  and  the  hand 
of  the  padre  was  smoothing  her  hair,  and  his  words 
were  reassuring. 

"There,  there!  it  is  not  so  bad,  after  all,"  he  was 
saying.  "You  did  the  best  you  knew;  and  now  that 
I  am  here,  there  is  nothing  to  do  but — " 

"Oh,  I  know,"  broke  in  Ana;  "you  say  all  this  so 
I  will  not  blame  myself.  You  would  do  the  same 
if  the  worst,  the  very  worst,  happened." 

"  It  is  not  going  to  happen,"  he  said,  quietly ; 
then,  as  he  saw  Dona  Refugia  in  the  hall,  "Your 
friend  is  surely  not  so  dangerously  ill  as  you  fear; 
by  to-morrow — ' 

Ana  looked  up  quickly  at  his  change  of  tone,  and 
arose  to  her  feet. 

"Here  is  my  aunt,"  she  said.  "Aunt  Refugia, 
this  is  a  padre  journeying  south  to  Mexico.  He — 
he  came  at  the  right  moment  to  help  Senor  Bryton, 
and  I  have  asked  him  to  stay  —  and  —  " 

[225] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Of course,"  said  Dofta  Refugia,  promptly.  "Thanks 
to  God  you  are  here  this  night!  Show  him  to  the 
padre's  room,  Ana,  while  I  see  to  supper.  Is  she 
sleeping  ? "  she  asked,  nodding  toward  the  couch. 

They  did  not  know ;  she  lay  with  closed  eyes  most 
of  the  time,  and  they  received  no  replies  to  queries, 
but  Ana  felt  that  she  only  slept  fitfully,  and  then 
her  own  muttered  words  were  certain  to  arouse  her 
to  a  sort  of  half  wakefulness  in  which  she  was  simply 
conscious  of  the  presence  of  some  one  without  caring 
in  the  least  who  it  was.  The  entrance  of  the  mob 
had  not  impressed  her  mind  more  clearly  than  the 
visionary  pictures  of  the  night  before. 

Old  Polonia  had  again  crouched  outside  the  door,  in 
the  hall,  wordless  as  before,  and,  except  for  some  slight 
disarrangement  of  her  clothing,  showing  less  sign  than 
might  have  been  expected  of  the  horrid  scene  she  had 
been  a  part  of.  She  had  gone  in  to  look  at  her  mistress, 
had  swallowed  some  wine  offered  her  by  Juanita,  and 
with  a  short  guttural  laugh  had  settled  herself  outside 
the  door  as  a  sentinel  —  or  near  enough  to  hear  the 
slightest  call  from  Raquel. 

The  priest  regarded  her  sharply  and  turned  to  Ana. 

"  You  are  certain  it  was  not  Estevan's  daughter  she 
meant  to  harm  ?"  he  asked,  quietly,  but  not  so  low  but 
that  the  sharp  ears  of  the  Indian  caught  the  name. 

[226] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

She  pulled  a  corner  of  the  mantilla  from  across  her  eyes 
and  looked  at  him. 

"Sure,"  said  Ana,  "why,  she  was  her  nurse,  and 
the  nurse  of  her  mother  before  her.  She  would  make 
a  carpet  of  herself  for  Raquel's  feet." 

"The  nurse  of  her  mother  before  her,"  said  the 
priest,  slowly.  "Then  she  is  of  that  strange  hill 
tribe  of  the  temple  mountain,  and  she  herself  is 
not  a  common  Indian.  To  have  been  nurse  to 
that  family  of  the  priests,  means  that  her  own  family 
was  entitled  to  notice.  Yet  she  has  followed,  in  her 
old  age,  to  a  strange  land.  Yes,  it  must  mean  devotion. 
But  why  does  she  dislike  the  American  ? " 

"  God  knows !  She  could  not  have  ever  seen  him 
before.  I  thought  she  lied." 

"The  hate  in  her  eyes  was  no  lie,"  observed  the 
padre.  "His  presence  here  was  lucky,  but  it  is  not 
explained,  any  more  than  is  my  own.  To  me  it 
looks —  well,  as  I  said,  he  is  in  with  the  officers." 

"And  it  is  my  fault  he  has  seen  you — my  fault," 
murmured  Ana.  "If  you  would  only  go  at  once — " 

"  I  think  not ;  it  is  a  good  chance  to  watch  the 
gentleman.  If  I  were  sure  that  old  woman  meant 
her  hate  for  him — " 

He  stared  at  Polonia  a  moment,  and  then  nodded 
his  head. 

[227] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  '11  take  the  chance,"  he  decided,  and  went  alone 
to  her  and  pulled  the  cover  entirely  from  her  face. 

"  Friend  of  a  daughter  of  many  kings,"  he  said, 
slowly. 

She  stared  at  him,  and  stumbled  to  her  feet  in  salu 
tation. 

"  It  is  true,  my  father,  but  the  kings  of  the  hills  are 
dead ;  and  now,"  pointing  toward  Raquel,  "  there  will 
be  no  more  in  the  land." 

"  Who  knows  ? "  said  the  strange  padre.  "  There 
still  lives  a  daughter;  guard  her  better  than  you  did 
her  mother  when  I  carried  love  messages  from 
Estevan." 

"  Ai !  I  know  you  now.  You  have  become  padre, 
and  you  guard  her  from  the  heretics  —  the  heretics, 
father,"  and  she  pointed  toward  the  veranda  where 
Don  Enrico  and  his  guest  could  be  heard  in  conver 
sation.  "  That  accursed  Americano  — 

"  Sh —  h  !  quiet,  you  !  "  and  he  placed  a  hand  on  her 
arm  authoritatively  ;  "  make  no  noise,  say  no  words, 
but  watch  him  all  the  time  —  every  time  when  I  am 
out  of  sight.  Understand  ?  " 

She  glanced  from  the  padre  to  Ana,  who  nodded 
her  head,  and  at  once  the  dark  old  face  was  illuminated ; 
at  last  she  was  not  alone  in  this  strange  land  !  Others 
were  here  who  hated  the  Americano,  and  that  made 

[228] 


E 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


them  her  kindred.  She  caught  the  hand  of  the  padre 
and  pressed  it  to  her  forehead. 

"  I  watch  always,"  she  promised,  fervently ;  and 
to  herself  she  thought,  "  After  all,  we  get  him  killed 
some  way,  if  the  padre,  who  was  a  soldier,  helps." 

They  left  her  in  her  chosen  place,  crouched  in  the 
hall  just  outside  the  door  of  Raquel,  content  at  last 
that  she  was  not  alone  in  her  hatred  of  the  man  whom 
she  blamed  for  the  weary  hours  of  wretchedness  lived 
through  by  her  mistress. 

Ana  showed  the  padre  to  the  room  set  aside  always 
for  the  use  of  such  priests  as  travelled  from  San  Gabriel 
to  San  Juan.  They  were  not  so  many  of  late  years, 
but  in  this  house  they  were  always  honored  guests,  no 
matter  what  their  order,  or  land,  or  language. 

"  I  am  afraid  —  afraid  !  "  said  Ana,  as  she  opened  the 
door;  "if  some  one  should  come  who  knows — " 

"No  one  will,"  he  said,  reassuringly,  "and this  may 
be  a  good  chance  to  learn  much.  Go,  help  your  aunt, 
and  forget  to  fear." 

Ana  sighed,  but  went  as  he  bade,  to  the  kitchen, 
where  Dona  Refugia  was  doing  her  best  to  make 
amends  for  the  distraction  of  the  cooks.  They  were 
like  big,  fat,  frightened  children,  not  one  of  them  of 
any  use  that  night. 

Still,  there  chanced  to  be  enchilladas  made  the  day 
[229] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

before,  and  the  tortillas  took  but  a  little  while  to  bake, 
and  the  bonfire  in  the  yard  had  settled  to  a  bed  of 
gleaming  coals  where  the  beef  could  be  barbecued  with 
no  delay  but  the  sending  of  some  girls  to  the  creek  for 
spears  of  peeled  willow.  Ana  glanced  out  and  saw 
them  squatted  peacefully  around  the  red  heap,  turning 
the  poles  on  which  the  strips  of  beef  were  hung,  as 
phlegmatic  as  though  they  had  not  howled  for  a  human 
roasting  there  not  an  hour  ago. 

Juanita  had  made  the  table  look  very  nice,  in  honor 
of  the  strange  American  guest  who  had  followed  her 
call  and  saved  the  family  from  the  disgrace  of  such  a 
killing. 

He  filled  her  girlish  ideal  of  the  heroic,  and  she 
was  not  like  some  women  who  thought  that  California 
girls  should  marry  only  their  own  race:  a  big  Ameri 
can  husband  seemed  the  finest  thing  in  the  world  to 
Juanita. 

So  there  were  red  geraniums  on  the  table,  and  yel 
low  poppies,  and  the  best  new  plates  brought  from  a 
steamer  at  San  Pedro  but  a  month  before ;  they  were 
a  bright  blue,  and  Juanita  thought  the  color  combina 
tion  very  fine  indeed.  She  ran  to  put  on  a  new  dress, 
that  the  stranger  might  not  think  they  all  looked  as  if 
the  house  had  been  wrecked.  Ana,  for  a  wonder,  was 
indifferent  to  her  own  personal  appearance,  and  kept 

[230] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

on  an  old  black  dress  with  not  even  a  collar  of  lace  to 
break  its  severity. 

Don  Enrico  showed  Bryton  to  a  room  where  he 
could  wash  and  brush  a  bit,  but  so  interested  was  he  in 
his  chance  guest,  that  he  remained  at  the  door  chatting 
affably,  and  recounting  the  word  he  had  received  that 
day  that  Flores  and  his  men  had  made  a  big  fight  with 
some  cattle  people  over  in  Sonora,  and  had  either  got 
a  boat  at  San  Onofre  and  gone  out  to  sea,  or  else  they 
were  somewhere  in  the  San  Juan  mountains,  and  of 
course  had  spies  on  the  outlook  for  the  marshal  or  the 
army  men.  Don  Enrico  himself  thought  it  time  for 
the  army  men  to  interfere  —  there  were  many  army  men 
in  Los  Angeles,  and  this  was  no  longer  a  county  affair. 

"But  the  devil  of  a  trouble  in  this  country  is  that 
too  many  Mexican  men,  and  women  too,  will  help  to 
hide  Flores's  men  because  of  Capitan,  who  has  never 
yet  taken  a  peso  from  a  Mexican,  except  the  Arteagas, 
and  who  never  fails  to  strip  an  American  if  he  starts 
on  his  trail.  They  like  that,  these  Mexicans,  whose 
men  fought  the  Americanos ;  they  are  not  strong 
enough  to  fight  in  the  open,  but  they  like  to  help 
this  vagabond  Capitan,  who  should  have  been  priest 
instead  of  bandit,  and  who  keeps  up  their  fight  for 
them  under  cover." 

He  had  entered  the  dining-room  while  talking,  and 


•          ( 


I 


SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

so  interested  was  he  in  his  pet  complaint  against  the 
troublesome  outlaws,  that  he  did  not  notice  the  tall 
black  figure  by  the  side  of  his  wife. 

"  Uncle,  this  is  Padre  Libertad,"  said  Ana,  almost 
timidly.  Don  Enrico  did  not  like  priests  in  general ; 
he  made  the  mistake  of  classing  them  all  with  the 
Catalonian  padre  of  San  Juan,  whom  he  disliked  so 
much  that  he  would  not  eat  at  the  same  table.  His 
women  folks  never  knew  how  he  would  receive  a  man 
of  the  Church  until  he  was  proven  to  his  taste. 

However,  the  good  American  whiskey  had  put  him 
in  a  cordial  mood,  and  he  nodded  amiably  as  he  took 
his  seat. 

"A  good  day  to  you,  padre,"  he  said.  "You  tramped 
a  long  way  in  the  dust  to  find  trouble,  did  you  ?  Well, 
the  women  are  thanking  the  saints  you  came  at  the 
right  time,  you  and  Senor  Bryton.  So  it  is  all  very 
well,  and  God  send  that  the  fight  gave  you  an  appetite." 

And  evidently  something  did,  for  the  priest  ate  like 
a  vaquero  off  the  ranges.  Don  Enrico  felt  a  growing 
respect  for  the  man  who  could  eat  more  barbecued  meat 
than  himself,  and  drink  as  much  red  wine.  In  fact, 
all  did  ample  justice  to  the  beef  of  the  bonfire  built  for 
old  Polonia, —  all  except  Ana, —  who  still  looked  pale 
and  uneasy,  and  Bryton,  who  made  a  pretence  of  eat 
ing,  but  who  refused  a  second  glass  of  wine,  a  thing 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  padre  noticed  with  a  smile,  and  their  host  com 
mented  on  vigorously. 

"  You  can't  drink  —  you  Americans, "  he  insisted ; 
"  and  look  at  your  plate,  —  not  half  empty  !  It  takes 
students  and  brain-workers  like  the  padre  and  me 
to  spoil  a  side  of  beef!  You  are  Spanish  and  of 
Mexico,  padre  ? " 

"No,  not  even  my  grandfather  came  from  Spain ;  so 
I  cannot  claim  to  be  Spanish,"  said  the  padre.  "  I 
claim  only  to  be  Mexican." 

"And  good  enough  too !  Across  the  line,  do  these 
bandits  of  ours  make  much  trouble  these  days?" 

"No  one  has  complained  to  me  of  them.  You 
say  they  take  most  from  the  Americano,  but  in  our 
country  there  are  no  Americano  ranches  yet;  we  do 
not  expect  to  find  them  there  for  many  years." 

"Well,  Capitan  does  go  down  there  sometimes," 
insisted  Don  Enrico ;  "  I  Ve  heard  of  it.  His  family 
meant  him  for  the  Church,  but  the  young  devil  ran 
away  and  joined  the  army  with  his  elder  brother. 
The  Americans  shot  Roberto;  this  one  was  only  a 
boy  then,  light-weight  to  ride,  and  he  carried  de 
spatches,  and  never  went  back  to  the  Church.  Oh, 
he  is  Californian,  all  right, —  is  cousin  to  half  the 
country.  He  is — what  relation  should  he  be  to  us, 
Refugia?" 

[233] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  He  is  second  cousin  to  me,"  said  Ana. 

"  So  if  you  hear  of  him  being  in  trouble  for  his  soul, 
say  a  prayer  for  him,  padre,  on  account  of  his  loyal 
cousin,"  said  Juanita,  and  laughed  teasingly;  but  Ana 
lifted  troubled,  dark  eyes  to  the  padre's  face. 

"  Do  so,  father,"  she  said,  simply  ;  "  for  tne  sake 
of  his  soul,  remember  me!  " 

"These  women!"  laughed  her  uncle;  "they  are 
always  troubling  us  about  our  souls,  padre.  Don't 
let  them  spoil  your  supper  with  a  list  of  prayers ! " 

"And  what  would  become  of  some  of  your  souls  if 
we  women  did  not  say  the  prayers?"  retorted  his 
v/ife.  "God  knows,  Capitan  needs  them." 

"  We  all  need  them,"  said  the  priest,  quietly. 

"Still,  I  always  have  understood  that  he  is  the 
whitest  of  the  bunch,"  observed  Bryton. 

"There  are,  then,  different  shades  of  blackness?" 
asked  the  padre.  "  I  believe  the  law  holds  all  equally 
guilty." 

"  El  Capitan's  motives,  at  least,  have  been  dif 
ferent,  and  it  has  come  to  be  understood  that  when 
extremely  brutal  things  have  occurred  on  their  raids, 
Capitan  is  never  of  the  party." 

"  Is  it  so  ?  I  did  not  know  you  Americanos  gave 
Mexicans  credit  for  such  negative  virtues? " 

Bryton  looked  up  quickly.     There  was  a  mocking 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAE 


•H 

* 


light  in  the  eyes  of  the  padre,  and  he  was  smiling 
across  the  table.  The  smile  puzzled  Bryton  as  much 
as  the  quick  alarm  in  the  eyes  of  Ana.  Was  she 
afraid  of  controversy  over  the  still  warm  question  of 
Mexican  and  United  States  rights  ? 

"  I  think  that,  individually,  we  give  each  other 
credit,"  he  replied,  "  especially  to  the  fighters.  It  is 
only  the  political  schemers  who  make  the  troubles 
between  the  two  factions.  As  for  Capitan,  he  has  too 
much  daring  not  to  force  admiration  even  from  the 
people  he  dislikes." 

Ana  flashed  a  grateful  glance  at  him,  and  a  slight 
flush  crept  to  the  forehead  of  the  padre;  he  gulped 
down  the  contents  of  his  glass,  and  pushed  back  his 
chair. 

"  Do  you  fear  any  trouble  with  those  Indians 
to-night?"  he  asked,  abruptly.  "Had  I  better  speak 
with  them  ? " 

"It  is  better,  perhaps,  that  we  say  a  rosary,  and 
bring  them  together  that  way,"  observed  Dofia 
Refugia ;  "  it  is  the  best  way.  I  will  have  Pedro  ring 
the  bell—" 

Ana  slipped  out  of  the  dining-room  beside  the  padre. 

"  You  will  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  Surely ;  a  rosary  is  easy.  Why  do  you  look  so 
frightened  ?  Your  Americano  will  not  eat  me." 

I>35] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"  But  you  don't  like  him  ?  " 

"What  does  that  matter?  At  least,  he  says  no 
harm  of  a  man  behind  his  back,  and  it  is  true  what  he 
says  of  the  politicians.  Oh,  if  he  keeps  up  the  com 
pliments,  who  knows  but  that  we  may  be  good  friends 
yet — after  he  has  paid  for  the  horses  he  took 
north?  Chut!  —  that  is  only  jest !  Smile  a  little  and 
help  to  corral  the  Indians." 

Bryton,  with  Juanita  beside  him,  had  sauntered 
again  to  the  veranda.  Passing  the  door  of  the  hall, 
he  noticed  Polonia  still  crouched  there,  and  Juanita 
shuddered  and  drew  away. 

"I  am  always  frightened  at  her,"  she  confessed; 
"  not  alone  would  I  go  in  a  room  where  she  is  at  dark 
for  all  the  gold  they  say  there  is  in  Trabuco  Moun 
tain.  It  is  not  so  strange  to  me  that  the  poor 
creatures  were  afraid  and  thought  her  a  witch.  If 
you  had  heard  the  Dona  Raquel  all  last  night,  you 
also  would  have  thought  only  witchcraft  could  make 
her  so  suddenly  fall  sick  with  a  heart-ache  for  a  ring 
that  would  save  her,  and  a  temple  where  a  sacrifice 
was.  Truly,  it  was  pitiful  —  her  cries.  I  pulled  the 
pillow  over  my  ears.  Only  Ana  was  brave  enough  to 
stay  close  to  her, —  Ana  and  the  old  mummy." 

"And  Dofta  Ana  — she  thought  what  of  it  all  — 
the  madness  —  the  —  " 

M 


*mr 


••M9& 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"Oh,  Ana  has  no  love  for  Rafael;  she  blames 
him  in  some  way ;  and  it  may  be  that  he  does  make 
trouble  for  his  wife  —  he  would  not  be  an  Arteaga 
else.  But  she  never  mentioned  his  name  in  all  her 
cries,  never  once.  She  called  always  —  always  for  the 
ring,  and  laughed  that  some  one  who  wore  the  ring 
was  again  alive.  Oh,  it  was  all  of  queer  crazy  things 
like  that  —  ghostly  things  —  she  made  laments  for. 
It  was  like  purgatory  to  hear  her,  yet  Ana  was  not 
afraid.  She  has  courage,  that  girl !  " 

"  She  is  asleep  now  ?  "  he  asked,  suddenly. 

"Who  — Ana?  why—" 

"No,  no,  I  mean  Dona  —  I  mean  the  sick  lady. 
She  is  better  —  or  —  how?" 

"She  notices  nothing,  and  says  nothing,  but  she 
does  not  scream  for  some  one  who  was  dead  and  is 
now  alive,  as  she  did  last  night,  when  she  laughed 
and  wept;  so  I  think  that  means  the  herb  teas  have 
checked  the  fever.  Do  not  you  ?  " 

Just  then  the  bell  rang  in  the  patio  for  the  rosary, 
and  Juanita,  with  a  word  of  apology,  slipped  away, 
saying  diffidently,  "Though  you  are  welcome  to  come 
and  pray  with  us," —  divided  between  her  wish  to  have 
him,  and  her  reluctance  to  make  it  obligatory  on  a 
heretical  guest  to  attend  their  services. 

"I   shall   pray  with   you,"   he  said,  simply,  "but 

[>37] 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

I  shall  remain  here.  My  presence  might  not  have 
a  soothing  effect  on  your  servants.  I  shall  smoke  a 
cigar  here  on  the  terrace  until  you  return." 

Juanita  blushed.  She  would  rather  have  lingered 
there  herself  than  joined  the  others.  The  dusk  was 
coming  on ;  a  few  last  bars  of  red  lay  along  the  sky 
line  to  the  west  where  the  sea  was,  and  at  that  hour 
there  was  no  corner  so  delightfully  appealing  as  the 
great  veranda  where  the  gold-of-Ophir  roses  made 
a  lattice  of  green  and  yellow  against  the  warm  sky. 

Ana  entered  and  lit  a  candle  in  the  hall  and  another 
in  the  room  of  Raquel,  and  went  out  again  with  a  quiet 
nod  to  the  American  guest  pacing  the  veranda  aimlessly, 
and  smoking  one  of  Don  Enrico's  prime  cigarros. 

When  she  had  disappeared,  he  sauntered  as  aim 
lessly  through  the  hall  to  the  patio  where  the  dark 
people  were  gathered  with  bent  heads,  murmuring 
responses  sullenly,  scarcely  daring  to  lift  their  eyes 
to  the  group  on  the  veranda. 

A  few  candles  had  been  lit  along  the  wall  where 
the  shadows  were  deepening,  and  in  their  soft  light 
Bryton  could  see  Don  Enrico  and  all  the  men  of 
the  ranch  —  vaqueros  and  ploughmen  alike — kneeling 
back  of  the  women,  and  the  red  light  yet  showing 
through  the  gray  of  the  ashes  where  the  flames  had 
leaped  so  lately. 


Ya  me  voy  de  esta  campo  que-ri-da,    Donde  tiernas  ca-ri   -   cias  go-ce" 


Y  me  voy  con  el  al  -  ma  par-ti  -  da,    Campo  in-grat-a  por  ti  llovare ! 

CHAPTER   XIII 


INLY  an  instant  he  gave  to  it  all, 
but  in  that  instant  he  made  cer 
tain  that  every  man  and  woman 
on  the  place  was  at  prayers, 
except  the  old  Indian  woman, 
who  squatted  with  covered  head 
in  the  hall,  and  himself.  His 
movements  were  no  longer  aimless.  He  retreated 
swiftly  to  the  veranda,  and  tossed  the  cigarro  into 
the  garden.  One  glance  he  gave  the  wooden-like 
figure  of  the  old  Indian.  Only  as  a  last  resort  would 
he  attempt  to  pass  that  way,  but  if  the  windows 
were  not  barred  — 

They  were  not.  Ana  had  gone  against  her  aunt's 
Mexican  rule,  which  was  that  all  fresh  air  should 
be  excluded  from  a  sick-room  ;  and  while  that  lady 
and  all  her  servants  exclaimed  against  the  admission 

[>39] 


I 


o 

H 

^ 


U 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

of  air,  they  let  the  blame  lie  on  the  shoulders  of  Ana, 
and  no  one  closed  the  window.  It  swung  wide  to  the 
wind  of  the  west,  and  on  the  couch  within,  Bryton 
could  see  Raquel's  face. 

The  lids  were  closed  over  the  violet  eyes,  and  the 
lips  were  apart,  showing  the  white  teeth.  It  was  still 
so  light  that  he  could  see  the  little  flush  on  the  cheeks 
against  the  white  pillow,  and  on  her  right  hand  one 
little  old  ring  of  plain  gold.  On  the  left  hand  shone 
the  red  gold  of  her  new  wedding-ring. 

She  looked  so  pathetically  young  and  so  utterly 
alone,  as  she  lay  there,  that  all  the  man  in  him  arose 
in  protest,  and  a  mist  of  tears  blinded  him  for  a 
moment  to  the  beauty  of  her  face. 

"Poor  little  one,"  he  whispered,  "my  poor  little 
broken  Dona  Espiritu  —  my  one  lady  of  the  spirit!  " 

The  sound  of  the  words  did  not  wake  her,  but 
the  sense  of  them  reached  her  some  way ;  for  she 
opened  her  eyes  suddenly,  and  without  any  shadow 
of  wonder  they  rested  on  his  face. 

"I  waited  a  long  time,"  she  said  at  last,  "then  I 
heard  your  voice,  and  I  knew  you  were  coming 
to  me." 

He  set  his  lips  tightly,  and  nodded,  but  did 
not  speak. 

"I  waited  a  long  time,"  she  repeated,  as  a  child 
[240] 


"THEN  I   HEARD  YOUR  VOICE" 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

appealing  for  understanding.  "Did  they  tell  you 
I  thought  you  were  dead  ?  " 

He  nodded  assent.  No  one  had  told  him  so,  out 
the  words  explained  much. 

"You  said  you  would  come  back  if  you  lived, 
and  you  never  came,  and  they  told  me  —  the  padre 
told  me  —  that  you  were  dead  !  " 

"So  I  am,"  he  said,  gently;  "and  they  told  me, 
my  lady  of  the  spirit,  that  you  had  taken  the  final 
vow  of  the  convent  —  that  the  night,  our  one  night, 
was  a  thing  you  were  forgetting  under  a  black  veil. 
Child,  child  !  they  lied  to  us,  and  now  —  " 

"Forgetting?"  she  said,  slowly.  "How  does  one 
forget  a  night  like  that,  when  we  walked  out  of  the 
wilderness  into  the  day  together?  You  never  came 
back;  and  I — I  wanted  to  be  in  the  world  where 
you  had  been,  so  I — ' 

"I  know,"  he  whispered,  gently;  "I  know,  my 
dona  of  the  spirit." 

He  had  not  meant  to  touch  her, —  only  to  look 
at  her  and  speak  to  her  once,  and  then  ride  wherever 
fate  might  take  him. 

But  she  reached  her  hands  to  him,  and  with  a 
smothered  groan  he  knelt  by  her  couch  and  his  arms 
were  around  her. 

"Don't  weep  like  that!"  she  whispered,  and  laid 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

her  hand  on  his  head.  "  I  have  wept  enough  for  two, 
since  our  carriages  passed  and  I  found  you  had  not 
died.  And  you  —  you  knew  all  the  time." 

"I  knew  when  I  saw  you  kneel  in  your  wedding-veil 
and  take  that  oath  —  not  until  then.  I  heard  his 
mother  say  that  he  was  the  man  you  loved ;  and,  soul 
of  mine !  you  had  not  said  as  much  as  that  in  words 
tome.  Sol  —  " 

"  You  heard  that  ?  Then  you  know  the  life  I  have 
to  live."  He  nodded,  without  lifting  his  head  from 
the  pillow  of  her  arm.  There  are  some  things  hard  to 
face  with  open  eyes,  but  she  felt  the  shudder  that 
passed  over  him.  Through  the  opened  window  came 
the  rise  and  fall  of  many  murmuring  voices  repeating 
the  rosary.  In  the  gold-of-Ophir  rose-tree  two  birds 
fluttered  and  called  to  each  other  in  the  very  whisper 
of  bird  notes.  The  soft  lavender-grays  of  a  Califor- 
nian  nightfall  were  sifting  through  the  warm  light  of 
the  afterglow,  and  away  there  in  the  west  stretched  bars 
of  blood  red,  the  last  trace  of  the  dying  day.  All  the 
sequestration  of  the  hour  was  about  them,  all  the  hush 
of  the  pause,  before  the  final  plunge  of  their  day  into 
the  shadows,  and  the  two  souls  were  enveloped  by 
the  atmosphere  of  that  ev^r-recurring  tragedy  of  the 
hours,  and  of  lives. 

How  long  he  knelt  there  he  did  not  know.  She  felt 
[242] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

his  lips  on  her  wrist,  and  felt  rather  than  heard  the 
broken  words  he  was  whispering  —  the  wild,  mad  words 
he  had  meant  not  to  say,  as  he  had  meant  not  to  touch 
her  ;  then  her  eyes  grew  bright  as  the  stars  picking  their 
way  through  the  vault  of  blue,  and  the  golden-haired 
woman  of  the  carriage  belonged  to  a  feverish  phantasy 
of  the  past  hours.  She  might  exist,  that  golden-haired 
creature  of  beauty,  but  the  real  life  of  the  man  who 
knelt  there  in  the  dusk  belonged  only  to  her,  to  her  al 
ways,  through  the  bond  of  one  starlit  Mexican  night 
of  witchery,  and  this  last  hour  of  the  California  day. 

Nothing  made  any  difference  now ;  though  she  lived 
in  a  hell  of  purgatory  all  her  waking  life,  the  bonds  of 
their  dream  life  would  be  closer  than  all  else  —  always, 
always ! 

She  felt  suddenly  well  and  strong.  Ah,  there  was 
so  much  in  the  world  to  live  for  !  Though  they  never 
met,  never  spoke  again,  this  hour  of  the  tryst  would 
be  his  through  all  her  life  —  her  hour  of  a  rosary  of 
the  heart. 

A  girl's  voice  in  the  patio  came  softly  through  the 
dark  in  an  old  Spanish  hymn.  It  was  Juanita,  and  the 
service  of  prayer  was  ending  in  the  usual  duo;  one  of 
the  vaqueros  with  a  fine  barytone  voice  was  singing 
the  echoing  stanzas  of  praise. 

It  was  the  signal  for  dispersing,  but  the  man  at  the 

[>43] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

couch  did  not  know  that.  Neither  did  he  kn:ow  that 
the  crouched  form  of  the  Indian  was  no  longer  in 
the  hall.  She  was  waiting  in  the  dusk  at  the  door, 
and  she  was  clutching  with  a  claw-like  hand  at  the 
robe  of  the  padre,  and  muttering,  "He  is  there  —  it 
is  true.  He  is  there  —  and  she  is  again  bewitched. 
Now  you  will  help  me  to  kill  the  American  ?  " 

The  padre  looked  at  her  sharply,  and  then  motioned 
to  Ana,  who  was  close  behind. 

"  Remain  with  the  others.  Make  some  excuse  to 
keep  them  there  —  another  hymn  —  anything.  And 
be  quick  —  quick!" 

Startled  though  she  was,  Ana  obeyed,  and  from  the 
door  of  the  hall  he  heard  again  the  voice  of  Juanita; 
this  time  it  was  in  a  favorite  known  to  all,  and  the  vol 
ume  of  sound  told  him  that  Don  Enrico  himself  was 
joining  in  the  refrain,  and  that  no  one  would  leave  the 
patio  until  the  finale  was  reached. 

No  candle  burned  now  in  the  hall.  Polonia  had 
blown  it  out,  that  no  ray  might  enter  the  half-open 
door  of  the  inner  room.  She  would  have  gone  with 
the  padre,  but  the  sudden  vigorous  grasp  of  his  hand 
on  her  shoulder  stopped  her  where  she  stood,  and 
without  a  word  being  spoken,  she  knew  better  than 
to  follow. 

Quickly  as  a  cat  of  the  hills,  the  padre  crossed  the 

[244] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

hall  and  stood  where  he  could  see  the  open  window 
and  the  kneeling  man,  and  the  hand  of  Raquel  on  his 
bent  head. 

"  Every  night  when  the  dusk  comes  it  will  be  our 
time  of  the  day,"  she  was  saying.  "  They  told  me 
you  were  dead,  else  —  but  you  know.  I  think  the 
mad  hours  have  gone  by  for  me ;  I  can  go  on  living 
if — if  you  do  not  forget." 

The  listening  priest  could  not  hear  what  the  man 
said,  but  she  heard,  and  smiled,  and  sighed. 

"  There  is  one  thing,"  she  said,  hesitatingly:  "  the 
ring,  you  have  worn  it  a  year  —  and  — 

"  I  know,"  and  he  lifted  his  head.  "  We  need  no 
visible  emblem,  you  and  I.  I  put  it  back  on  your  ringer, 
my  lady  of  the  spirit,  —  Dona  Espiritu;  —  a  pledge  of 
renunciation,  and  a  reminder  of  the  rosary  of  the  dusk." 

She  took  from  her  right  hand  the  little  gold  band 
and  gave  it  to  him,  and  in  its  place  he  slipped  the 
onyx  ring  of  the  Aztec  eagle  and  serpent. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  what  that  ring  means  to  my  peo 
ple,"  she  said,  as  he  kissed  it  in  its  new  resting-place. 
"  Maybe  I  never  can  tell  you.  I —  I  thought  I  could 
be  stronger  if  I  wore  it  on  my  own  hand,  for  —  for  the 
reason  that  my  heart  went  out  of  my  bosom  to  follow 
it,  and  —  and  I  rode  my  horse  as  fast  and  as  far  as  I 
could  from  you,  because  I — was  afraid." 


«Blp 


i  .„,•;,! 


"Good  God!"  whispered  the  man.  "You  don't 
know  what  you  are  saying.  Remember  that  I  dare 
not  touch  your  lips,  and  that  I  love  you  —  love  you  — 
love  you !  " 

Then  the  nestling  birds  in  the  gold-of-Ophir  rose 
were  startled  from  their  repose  by  the  man  who 
strode  through  the  open  window  and  walked  blindly 
out  into  the  garden. 

The  padre  watched  the  girl's  face  on  the  pillow  for 
a  moment,  and  heard  her  sobs,  and  retreated  softly  to 
the  hall,  where  he  met  the  others ;  and  at  Dona  Ana, 
when  they  were  alone  a  moment,  he  smiled  with  a 
certain  elation. 

"Look  distressed  no  longer,  little  one,"  he  said, 
reassuringly.  "  You  have  helped  me  to  a  good  day's 
work,  very  good.  Listen!  I  like  your  new  American 
friend  very  much,  and  when  you  go  to  San  Juan  I 
count  on  you  to  help  to  make  him  welcome  there. 
He  is  going  to  do  me  a  good  turn  with  Rafael 
Arteaga,  and  I  forgive  him  all  the  horses  he  helped 
to  save  for  the  army  men.  He  does  not  know  it, 
but  he  is  going  to  be  my  good  friend,  that  fine 
Americano.  He  is  so  fine  and  so  strong,  Ana,  that 
he  thinks  he  can  put  a  woman  he  loves  in  a  niche  of 
the  memory,  as  we  put  statues  of  the  saints  in  the 
niches  of  the  altar-places." 

[246] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"What  do  you  say?"  she  queried,  perplexed  by  his 
smile  and  words. 

"And  that  though  the  woman  loves  him  so  much 
that  she  kisses  her  own  hands  where  his  lips  have 
been,  and  though  he  loves  her  so  much  that  he  is  half 
mad  at  denial,  yet  he  will  leave  her  always  there  in 
the  little  niche  of  the  altar, — just  above  his  head,  but 
in  reach  of  his  hands ;  and  the  hands  will  never  try  to 
lift  her  down,  Anita.  He  will  only  look  at  her  as  he 
rides  past,  and  leave  her  there  to  remember." 

"  I  think  you  have  gone  mad,"  said  Ana,  sharply. 
"What  did  the  Indian  witch  tell  you  in  the  hall?" 

"Ask  her!"  he  suggested.  But  when  Ana  did  so, 
she  met  only  scowls  and  gutturals.  And  even  the 
sound  sleep  of  Raquel,  and  the  absolute  freedom  from 
delirium,  brought  nothing  but  suspicion  to  the  heart 
of  old  Polonia.  It  was  witchcraft,  like  all  the  rest, 
and  the  padre  should  have  put  the  malediction  on  the 
Americano  when  he  had  so  good  a  chance.  Above 
all,  he  should  not  have  let  him  ride  away  in  safety. 


m 


— ~- 


Indian  Reveille. 


CHAPTER    XIV 


HE  padre  himself  rode  away 
very  early.  Don  Enrico  lent 
him  a  horse  to  ride  to  San  Juan, 
and  wondered  a  little  that  the 
San  Gabriel  people  had  not 
done  as  much ;  but  times  were 
changing  in  the  land.  One 
could  not  expect  the  old  customs  to  live  wher  so 
many  strangers  were  crowding  into  the  country. 

The  offered  horse  was  accepted  gratefully,  and  the 
padre  breakfasted  with  the  vaqueros,  ana  left  for  the 
south  before  the  family  were  astir.  Bryton  watched 
him  go,  but  lingered  for  a  sight  of  Ana,  that  he  might 
hear  how  the  night  had  passed  inside  the  window  of 
the  golden  rose. 

And  Ana  was  the  last  to  join  the  party  at  breakfast, 
but  was  a  very  happy  creature,  compared  with  the 
nervous,  pale  woman  of  the  night  before.  All  were 

[248] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

astonished  at  the  fact  that  Raquel  announced  that  she 
had  slept  like  a  child  and  all  the  illness  and  fever  were 
forgotten.  She  was  not  sure  but  that  she  could  ride 
to  San  Juan,  and  above  all  things  she  was  grateful  to 
Ana,  and  wished  both  the  girls  to  go  with  her  and 
visit  in  the  old  Mission. 

The  servants  were  again  the  quiet  listless  folk  they 
had  been  before  the  finding  of  the  witch  charm.  But 
as  Bryton  rode  out  of  the  patio  after  many  farewells 
and  blessings  from  Dona  Refugia,  and  cordial  invita 
tions  from  Don  Enrico  to  ride  back  that  way,  and 
consider  the  place  as  his  own  home,  there  were  sullen 
scowls  among  the  dark  people. 

On  the  veranda  Juanita  stood  alone  and  waved  an 
adios  to  him.  Back  of  her  was  the  open  window  of  the 
golden  rose,  and  a  slender  girlish  figure  swayed  toward 
him  for  an  instant  and  then  stood  erect,  and  their  eyes 
met  and  lingered,  while  he  swept  his  sombrero  to  the 
stirrup. 

Juanita  wondered,  since  he  saluted  so  gallantly  and 
rode  with  his  face  turned  toward  her  veranda  until  the 
hedge  intervened,  why  he  did  not  smile ;  she  was 
accustomed  to  gayer  caballeros.  She  realized  that  she 
must  have  looked  very  pretty  in  her  pink  gown 
framed  in  the  blossoming  vines,  and  she  turned  away 
with  a  pout  and  a  shrug.  After  all,  Fernando  was 

1>49] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

right :  American  men  did  not  know  how  to  make 
love. 

Raquel  was  rather  pale  and  very  quiet  that  morning, 
but  insisted  upon  staying  up;  she  even  remembered 
to  ask  what  the  loud  calling  and  running  of  many  feet 
had  meant  the  evening  before;  or  had  she  dreamed  it? 
She  supposed  it  was  a  stampede  of  horses — was 
it?  Was  any  one  hurt?  She  had  heard  the  voices 
of  women. 

Ana  told  her  it  was  only  the  breaking  loose  of  part 
of  a  wild  herd,  but  that  no  one  was  injured.  Old 
Polonia  heard,  and  blinked  and  scowled  at  Ana,  but 
said  nothing. 

It  was  noon  when  Rafael  reached  the  ranch  and 
caught  sight  of  Raquel  in  a  porch-chair  under  the 
vines.  She  paled  slightly  at  sight  of  him,  and  turned 
the  onyx  ring  so  that  the  carving  did  not  show,  and 
by  the  time  he  had  crossed  the  patio  and  walked  to 
join  them,  her  face  was  a  serene  mask.  The  only 
surprise  she  betrayed  was  at  the  dark  look  he  cast  on 
Ana. 

"Are  you  two  in  a  politician's  pay,  that  you  bring 
me  from  Los  Angeles  in  a  fright  of  life  and  death, 
when  I  am  needed  every  minute  there  for  the  busi 
ness  matters  ?  "  he  demanded,  and  saw  in  a  moment 
that  his  wife  did  not  understand.  Ana  only  laughed. 

[250] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  did  it,"  she  acknowledged.  "  I  sent  the  boy 
with  some  truths  for  you.  Your  wife  was  like  to  die 
the  first  night  she  came.  It  is  by  the  grace  of  God 
she  has  been  saved  from  a  siege  of  fever.  She  does 
not  know  in  the  least  how  ill  she  was,  but  if  you  had 
heard  her  gabbling  of  blood-stained  altars  and  strange 
wedding-rings,  and  floods  sweeping  over  her  until  she 
screamed  to  be  saved  from  them,  —  well,  Don  Rafael, 
you  might  well  have  forgotten  to  spare  your  horse. 
Three  hours  would  have  brought  a  lover  here,  but  it 
takes  thirty  for  the  husband." 

"  Why  do  you  two  quarrel  always  ?  "  asked  Raquel, 
indifferently.  "  I  did  not  know  she  had  sent  for  you. 
I  was  very  tired,  and  the  hot  sun  —  something  —  oh 
yes,  I  was  ill,  and  wakened  myself  screaming.  But  it 
is  all  gone.  I  can  go  home." 

Rafael  tramped  the  veranda  and  sulked. 

"A  fine  laugh  you  have  made  for  me  in  Los  An 
geles  !  They  will  think  you  were  sick,  that  I  follow 
my  wife  !  "  he  said,  frowning  at  Ana.  "  God  of  my 
soul !  Why  do  you  not  get  another  husband  to 
worry  into  the  grave,  and  let  your  neighbors  alone  ? " 

She  only  laughed  again,  and  bent  over  her  em 
broidery  frame,  where  white  butterflies  were  being 
woven  on  the  drawn  threads  of  linen. 

"  Because  no   fine,   manly,   handsome  caballero  like 


A- 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

yourself  rides  this  way  to  ask  me,"  she  retorted. 
"  All  the  most  desirable  men  are  always  married." 

"The  Senor  Bryton  was  here  for  the  night,"  re 
marked  Juanita. 

"  Oh,  he  was  ?      Alone  ?  "  asked  Rafael. 

Juanita  nodded.  "And  a  priest,"  she  added. 
"They  both  rode  south." 

"  Bryton  alone  ?  "  mused  Rafael.  "  I  thought  per 
haps —  Did  any  strangers  ride  south  last  night,  —  a 
large  party  ?  " 

No  one  had  heard  of  any  one  passing. 

"  Dofia  Maria  comes  in  a  carriage  by  this  morn 
ing,"  he  remarked,  "  and  Mrs.  Bryton.  I  suppose 
they  will  want  you  to  travel  in  their  carriage,  if  you 
feel  equal  to  the  drive  to  San  Juan." 

"  Oh,  she  must  not  go  to-day  —  not  for  anything!  " 
decided  Dona  Refugia,  who  had  come  from  the  hall 
and  overheard.  "  Dona  Maria  and  her  friend  can 
stop  here  a  few  days,  and  then  perhaps  if  your  wife  is 
strong  enough  —  " 

"  Certainly,  that  is  the  best,  the  very  best,"  as 
sented  Rafael,  with  a  smile  of  relief.  Dona  Refugia 
was  making  it  necessary  that  Raquel  should  at  least 
meet  the  friends  of  Dona  Maria.  All  was  turning 
out  well,  after  all. 

Raquel  made  no  remark,  only  looked  out  idly 
[252] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

across  the  garden  to  the  fields,  yellow  where  the  mus 
tard  bloom  glowed.  She  knew  she  could  not  bear  it 
just  yet.  Later,  perhaps,  she  could  grow  strong 
enough  to  see  Bryton's  wife,  and  hear  her  voice  cut 
across  the  days  and  the  dusks  here,  where  his  whis 
pers  had  awakened  her  to  life  —  some  day,  perhaps; 
but  she  knew  it  could  not  be  either  to-day  or  to 
morrow. 

Her  husband  watched  her  curiously.  If  she  would 
only  give  some  sign  of  what  she  felt,  as  another 
woman  would  do !  How  was  a  man  to  read  a  woman 
who  stared  out  on  life  like  a  sphinx,  seeing  nothing 
and  hearing  nothing? 

In  the  same  way,  she  had  seemed  a  bit  of  wood 
over  that  old  legend  of  the  curse  on  San  Juan :  it  had 
not  changed  in  the  least  her  determination  to  go  back 
there ;  yet,  since  she  had  screamed  of  it  in  a  fever, 
who  was  to  know  what  feeling  it  had  awakened  back 
of  those  fathomless  violet  eyes  ? 

Rafael  turned  this  theory  over  in  his  mind,  and 
smoked  several  cigarros  to  help  to  solve  the  problem, 
but  it  was  of  no  use.  It  had  been  a  very  fine  mar 
riage  for  him.  Her  visit  to  Los  Angeles  had  further 
emphasized  that  fact ;  but  he  had  the  galling  feeling  of 
being  only  prince-consort  to  the  queen,  and  it  was  not 
so  pleasant  to  a  man  who  had  been  shown  favor  of  a 

[253] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

different  sort  by  many  women  who  would  have  been 
glad  to  give  him  the  king's  place. 

To  marry  a  girl  who  is  like  a  wooden  saint  in  a 
church  may  be  a  victory ;  it  may  be  even  romantic 
when  she  is  half  a  nun ;  but  it  is  not  comforting  to 
a  husband  who  expects  only  a  wife,  a  home. 

Then  across  his  thoughts  came  the  blue  eyes  and 
yellow  hair  of  the  woman  he  had  said  a  reluctant 
good-bye  to  in  Los  Angeles.  There  was  a  woman 
who  would  have  met  all  his  friends  half-way,  would 
have  promoted  his  interests,  instead  of  closing  doors 
and  refusing  to  entertain  any  but  the  slow  old  Span 
ish,  who  were  letting  all  the  money  slip  out  of  their 
hands.  In  a  few  years  their  names  would  be  forgot 
ten  in  the  new  world  of  commerce  building,  through 
the  Americanos  in  Los  Angeles,  —  the  Americanos 
whom  his  wife  disdained,  but  whom  the  clever  little 
woman  of  the  blue  eyes  would  have  won  to  his  inter 
ests  in  so  many  ways  that  her  influence  would  have 
weighed  down  all  the  gold  of  the  Estevan  heiress, 
who  did  not  know  how  to  use  it.  It  is  only  a  trick 
of  fate  that  the  money  always  goes  to  the  wrong  peo 
ple. 

So  he  thought,  and  smoked,  and  looked  at  Raquel 
Estevan  de  Arteaga,  and  wondered  by  what  manoeu 
vre  or  stratagem  he  could  break  down  her  prejudices; 

[*«] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


how 


with  such 


and 


he  wondered,  also,  how  a  woman 
such  lips  could  be  so  cold.     He  supposed  it  was  in 
herited  from  the  nun,  her  motner. 

Rafael  had  never  heard  the  story  of  the  love,  and 
revenge,  and  widowhood  of  that  nun.  One  or  two  of 
the  older  people  of  San  Juan  had  heard  of  it  at  the 
time  of  Estevan's  death,  but  none  knew  how  true  it 
was.  It  seemed  too  much  a  bit  out  of  the  dark  ages 
of  the  Indian  records  to  be  true  of  the  debonair 
Felipe,  who  had  ridden  and  fought  to  the  admiration 
of  all  Californian  Mexico,  who  had  found  women 
wherever  he  rode,  and  had  made  love  as  a  caballero's 
duty.  It  seemed  scarcely  credible  that  he,  of  all  men, 
should  have  met  death  in  that  way  on  the  far  southern 
mountain ;  and  the  older  men  crossed  themselves  and 
tried  to  forget  it,  and  the  younger  ones  never  heard 
of  it. 

Rafael,  smoking  on  the  veranda  and  watching  the 
serene  face  of  his  wife,  and  ascribing  her  coldness  to 
the  chill  of  convent  walls,  understood  her  no  more 
than  had  Felipe  Estevan  understood  the  nun  who  had 
stepped  down  from  her  saint's  niche  for  him ;  and  old 
Polonia,  sitting  in  the  shadow,  watched  them  both, 
and  in  her  dull  brain  was  also  a  query:  Would  he 
ever  discover  that  she  was  not  cold  ?  And  would 
he  find  out  in  the  same  way  ?  Both  God  and  the  devil 

tod 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

would  be  needed  to  help  them  all  on  that  day,  for 
California  was  not  the  hill  of  the  temple,  where  the 
Indian  still  ruled! 

Rafael  at  last  rode  out  to  the  range  to  see  Don 
Enrico  about  several  matters.  He  did  not  care  to 
alarm  the  women  concerning  the  rumors  of  the  bandits, 
but  now,  since  he  had  left  Los  Angeles  behind,  he 
would  just  as  soon  ride  with  the  vigilantes  as  not,  and 
Don  Enrico  could  be  trusted.  It  would  be  five  long 
hours  before  the  carriage  with  Dona  Maria  and  her 
bewitching  guest  reached  the  ranch,  and  one  must  kill 
time  some  way. 

He  killed  more  time  than  he  had  counted  upon. 
As  the  sun  began  to  lower,  and  he  and  Don  Enrico 
turned  their  horses  for  the  ranch-house,  the  dogs 
started  a  coyote,  and  with  one  accord  the  Don,  his 
guest,  and  his  vaqueros,  took  up  the  trail,  following 
the  howls  with  hue  and  cry  over  mesa  and  along 
creeks,  and  by  the  time  the  dark  had  fallen,  they  were 
far  toward  Trabuco.  They  rode  back  laughing  and 
singing,  and  making  little  dashes  at  racing,  under  the 
early  stars. 

But  their  laughter  was  changed  when  they  rode  into 
the  corral.  News  had  come  from  the  south,  and  a 
bad  thing  had  happened  there.  The  sheriff  from  Los 
Angeles  had  been  ambushed  by  the  Flores  men  at 

[256] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Niguel  Rancho,  and  nine  men  were  lying  dead  there. 
Carts  were  on  the  way  to  take  them  to  San  Juan  for 
Christian  burial,  and  Bryton  had  sent  a  messenger  to 
Los  Angeles  with  the  word ;  the  man  had  only  checked 
his  horse  at  San  Joaquin  ranch  to  shout  out  the  news; 
that  was  hours  ago.  The  Indian  who  had  searched 
the  ranges  for  Don  Enrico  had  come  back  and  said 
he  was  not  to  be  found.  Doiia  Refugia  had  thought 
it  possible  that  they  had  heard  the  word  on  the  ranges 
and  ridden  direct  to  San  Juan,  and  thanked  God  they 
had  not  done  so. 

She  went  on  to  recount  to  Rafael  her  terror  of  the 
night  before,  and  the  awful  scene  from  which  she  had 
by  no  means  recovered,  and  now  for  this  horror  to 
follow  so  close,  and  the  dread  that  they  might  be  left 
alone  on  the  ranch  —  well,  she  was  having  chills  at 
the  thought.  Ana  was  the  only  one  not  afraid,  but 
with  Ana  gone  to  San  Juan  Capistrano  — 

Rafael  grasped  her  arm  so  tightly  that  she  gasped. 

"  To  San  Juan  ? "  he  demanded.  "  Alone  ? "  But 
he  was  certain  of  the  answer  before  she  spoke. 

"  Holy  Maria  !  What  a  grip  you  have  !  No.  Did 
I  not  tell  you?  Well,  we  are  crazy  over  it  all;  we 
forget.  No;  she  went  with  your  wife,  and  wild  horses 
could  not  have  held  either  one  of  them." 

"  A  malediction  on  the  pair  of  them  ! "  burst  out 

0*7] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

Rafael.  "  God  curse  the  horses  they  ride,  that  they 
break  their  necks  on  the  way  !" 

"  Rafael,  for  Jesus'  sake,  not  so  loud  !  "  and  Dona 
Refugia  tried  to  put  her  hand  over  his  mouth,  but  he 
dashed  it  aside  in  fury. 

"  Loud  !  Holy  God  !  What  do  I  care  ?"  he  de 
manded,  wrathfully.  "  Do  you  know  why  they  go 
like  that?  It  is  all  a  lie,  that  ambush  story.  That 
devil  Ana  Mendez  has  schemed  to  have  some  one 
ride  past  and  call  that  out  to  you,  so  that  they  could 
pretend  an  excuse  to  ride  anywhere  away  from  here ; 
and  do  you  know  why  ? " 

Dofta  Refugia  was  past  speech,  and  could  only 
shake  her  head  dumbly. 

"Well,  I  will  tell  you.  It  is  because  Raquel 
Estevan  did  not  mean  to  meet  the  friends  you  said 
you  would  be  pleased  to  entertain  on  their  arrival 
from  Los  Angeles.  Dona  Maria  she  will  speak  to, 
but  Dona  Angela  is  one  of  the  heretics  she  vows  her 
doors  will  not  open  to.  That  is  the  reason." 

"But,  Rafael  —  " 

"Now  listen  to  me,"  and  he  turned  his  fierce  stride 
across  the  hall,  "  and  God  curse  me  if  I  do  not  keep 
my  word ! " 

"  Rafael !"  she  gasped,  frightened  at  the  white  fury 
of  his  face;  but  he  held  up  his  hand. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  swear  she  shall  open  her  door  to  admit  the 
women  she  slighted,  first  at  Los  Angeles  and  again 
in  your  home.  She  will  find  she  has  an  Arteaga  for  a 
master.  She  shall  open  her  door ;  she  shall  receive 
her ;  she  shall  make  up  for  the  insult  to  your  home. 
By  God,  she  shall  make  up,  with  interest ! " 

Then  he  strode  out  of  the  door,  leaving  Dona 
Refugia  in  a  cold  terror  lest  the  guest  of  whom  he 
spoke  had  heard  his  words  through  the  closed  door 
of  Ana's  room.  It  had  been  given  to  Mrs.  Bryton 
on  the  arrival  of  the  party  an  hour  before,  and  though 
the  door  was  closed,  who  could  tell  that  his  words 
might  not  have  been  heard  there  ? 

But  the  window  on  the  veranda  was  open,  and 
Dona  Refugia  breathed  a  sigh  of  relief  when,  a  few 
minutes  later,  she  saw  Mrs.  Bryton's  fair  face  emerge 
from  a  bower  of  clematis  in  the  garden.  She  had 
been  admiring  the  beauty  of  the  lilies  out  there,  and 
looked  like  one  herself,  —  so  cool,  so  sweetly  childish 
in  her  little  appeals  for  admiration  of  the  beautiful 
blooms  she  loved.  Rafael  met  her  there,  and  was 
enslaved  anew  by  the  blue  eyes,  as  he  bent  over  her 
tiny  hand  and  kissed  it  furtively,  and  walked  with  her 
to  show  her  Dona  Refugia's  carnation-beds,  and 
under  the  starlight  help  her  to  see  the  beauties  of 
the  San  Joaquin  garden. 

059] 


J  W. I \^/  X»V  \^/\* 

mm 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

But  old  Polonia,  who  had  heard  his  words  to  Dofia 
Refugia,  and  who  watched  the  two  walking  in  the 
starlight,  muttered  in  her  Indian  jargon,  "  Have  a 
care,  Don  Rafael ;  have  a  care! " 

Despite  Rafael's  doubt,  it  was  all  true  about  the 
ambush.  It  was  quite  true,  and  very  awful.  It  had 
occurred  in  the  morning,  and  Bryton  had  missed  it 
only  by  his  stay  that  night  at  the  ranch.  But  he  was 
also  quite  right  when  he  said  the  two  girls  had  left 
the  ranch  for  other  reasons.  Raquel  was  quietly  pre 
paring  to  leave,  when  the  word  came  warranting  her 
in  taking  Ana.  The  two  rode  south  with  few  words, 
each  so  wrapped  in  her  own  reasons  for  going  that  she 
gave  no  thought  to  the  reasons  of  the  other. 

They  found  the  town  panic-stricken.  Don  Juan 
Alvara  was  ill,  and  Padre  Andros  absent  at  San  Luis 
Rey.  Raquel  rode  into  the  plaza  white  and  weak 
from  the  long  ride,  but  sat  erect  to  hear  of  the  things 
done  and  the  things  needed  for  the  dead. 

It  was  almost  dark.  While  Ysadora  the  cook  pre 
pared  supper,  Ana  questioned  concerning  a  padre  who 
had  ridden  a  San  Joaquin  horse  to  San  Juan  that 
morning,  but  no  one  had  seen  him.  Later,  the  animal 
was  found  grazing  along  Trabuco  Creek.  Evidently, 
some  one  had  passed  with  a  wagon  or  a  herd  going 
south,  and  had  given  the  padre  help  on  the  way; 

[260] 
T 


F 


I 
II 


a 

M 
90 
w 


O 

O 

H 
X 
w 

c 

I— I 

55 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF 

beyond  that,  no  one  thought,  except  Ana,  and  what 
she  thought  she  did'  not  say. 

Raquel  walked  through  the  little  hall  of  the 
Mission  into  what  had  once  been  the  garden  of  the 
padres,  the  little  enclosed  bit  at  the  back  of  the  belfry 
built  after  the  falling  of  the  tower.  It  was  the  one 
little  corner  from  which  the  world  seemed  shut  out. 
Under  the  carved  doorway  she  passed  into  the  old 
domed  vestry  with  its  stone  centre  cut,  or  worn 
by  the  dripping  water,  into  the  semblance  of  a  leering 
face ;  "  the  devil's  face,"  it  was  called,  and  people 
looked  from  its  queer  smile  to  the  twisted  serpent-like 
carving  over  what  had  once  been  the  arch  to  the 
church  itself,  and  wondered  what  the  strange  carvings 
meant,  and  found  no  one  to  answer.  They  were 
only  a  sign  left  by  an  unknown  Mexican  sculptor  a 
half-century  ago. 

Raquel  glanced  at  them  and  shuddered,  and  passed 
out  into  the  great  unroofed,  beautiful  place  of  fluted 
pillars  and  carven  cornices. 

The  pink  reflection  of  the  sunset  yet  lingered  on 
the  mesa  and  the  highlands  above  the  sea.  The 
world  of  the  strange  new  town  to  the  north  was  left 
behind.  Here  among  the  ruins  consecrated,  she 
breathed  the  air  of  home-coming,  and  paced  the  old 
altar-place  with  noiseless  step,  and  with  closed  eyes 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  hands  clasped  she  murmured  prayers  not  in  the 
book,  taught  by  the  good  nuns ;  and  she  drew  great 
breaths  of  strength  from  the  wine-like  air,  and 
knew  that  somewhere,  riding  the  mesa,  a  man  was 
remembering  this  hour  of  the  rosary. 

Ana  found  her  later  on  the  altar  steps,  with 
head  bowed  over  her  knees.  Gaining  no  reply  to 
questions,  Ana  felt  that  she  had  been  weeping.  She 
undressed  her  and  put  her  to  bed  in  the  little  chamber 
of  the  barred  window  facing  the  sea,  and  gave  her  all 
the  care  a  devoted  friend  could  in  the  grim  isolation 
of  the  old  walls. 

And  that  was  the  home-coming  of  Raquel  after  her 
half-royal  reception  in  the  City  of  the  Angels. 


[262] 


El  Capotin. 

1  .       -       •   1 

H»     i-  iJ     i  1  '  TT1 

Con  el    ca-po  -tin,  tin,  ti 

£*—*-»    ,s  -rr  1      1     - 

i,  tin,  que-es  ta 

no  -che  va     Ho  -  ver. 

r*t=i=^  —  J-UU-J 

Con  el   ca-po  -tin,  tin,  tin,  tin,  que    se--raal   a-man-e  -  cer! 

CHAPTER  XV 

HEN  Andres  Pico  and  his  men 
rode  into  San  Juan  with  the 
doubtful  decoration  of  necklaces 
of  human  ears  strung  on  raw 
hide  strings,  there  was  a  breath 
of  relief  from  the  natives  :  it 
meant  that  the  bandits  had  been 
"confessed,"  according  to  the  General's  naive  explana 
tion  of  the  absence  of  prisoners  they  knew  he  had 
taken ;  the  backbone  of  the  bandit  gang  was  broken. 
The  vigilantes  were  the  heroes  of  the  hour.  As 
the  band  of  outlaws  divided  and  fled  in  various  direc 
tions,  they  were  waited  for  at  every  pass  and  hewn 
down  by  the  dozen.  Only  two  —  Fontez,  who  had 
shot  the  sheriff",  and  El  Capitan,  who  had  not  been 
seen  by  any  one  at  any  time  of  the  raid  —  were  still 
missing.  One  of  the  prisoners,  on  being  questioned, 

[263] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

stated  that  Fontez  had  taken  his  share  of  the  plunder 
and  started  for  Lower  California ;  and  when  questioned 
as  to  El  Capitan,  swore  wrathfully,  because  El  Capitan 
had  disagreed  with  Flores  over  the  raid,  refused  to  be 
counted  in,  and  in  consequence  they  would  all  go  to 
hell !  If  El  Capitan  had  helped,  things  would  have 
been  different,  very  different.  He  had  voted  against 
starting  out  with  fifty  men  to  drive  the  gringos  from 
Southern  California;  he  had  fought  them  before  in  the 
open,  and  knew  them.  He  had  told  Flores  he  was  a 
fool,  and  left  them  in  Santiago  Canon,  and  ridden 
away,  and  after  the  slaughter  of  the  sheriff  and  his 
men  he  had  ridden  out  of  the  mustard  on  a  horse  of 
the  San  Joaquin  brand,  and  told  them  to  ride  south 
and  stop  for  nothing ;  and  no  one  had  seen  him  since. 
They  had  not  taken  his  advice  —  and  now  it  was  all 
over !  A  little  later,  it  certainly  was  over  for  that  par 
ticular  unfortunate,  and  his  ears  were  added  to  a  string 
decorating  a  swarthy  ranchman,  who  was  especially 
lionized  because  of  his  gruesome  trophies. 

In  the  plaza  of  San  Juan  Mission,  Ana  listened  to 
the  hero  of  the  necklace  reciting  all  the  glories  of  the 
campaign,  and  shuddered  at  the  ghastly  witness  of  its 
veracity.  Raquel,  standing  beside  her  horse,  listened 
also  and  felt  a  loathing  of  it  all.  Regular  war,  such 
as  she  had  heard  of,  had  never  appeared  so  awful  as 

[264] 


I 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

this  series  of  slaughters  from  ambush,  where  the  vic 
tors  of  either  side  decked  themselves  like  savages. 

"It  is  bad  that  we  have  no  soldiers  left  who  are 
hidalgos,"  she  remarked.  "The  wild  Indians  carry 
scalps  at  their  belts;  I  did  not  know  people  did  so 
who  had  learned  their  religion  from  the  padres." 

She  mounted  and  rode  toward  the  sea,  the  only 
woman  who  dared  venture  alone  out  of  sight  of  the 
protecting  walls  of  the  Mission  in  those  days.  The 
man  with  the  necklace  looked  after  her,  and  then  up  at 
the  line  of  grain-sacks  still  left  as  a  barricade  along 
the  roofs  of  the  corridor.  Behind  them,  men  with 
rifles  had  lain  through  the  days  and  nights  when  the 
panic  was  at  its  worst,  and  women  and  children  had 
huddled  in  dread  of  massacre  in  the  inner  court. 

"  Does  the  senora  forget  all  that,"  he  asked,  "  or  is 
there  a  caballero  to  guard  her  where  she  rides  ? " 

Ana  turned  on  the  hero,  glad  of  an  outlet  for  her 
pent-up  anger.  "  You  —  you  butcher  !  "  she  said  be 
tween  her  little  white  teeth.  "  You  know  Rafael 
Arteaga  is  not  here.  What  other  man  would  ride 
with  his  wife  ?  " 

"  Who  knows  ?  "  he  laughed,  easily.  "  The  lady  is 
not  afraid,  that  is  clear ;  and  El  Capitan  is  somewhere 
in  the  hills,  or  the  willows." 

She  said  nothing,  realizing  that  he  was  watching  her 

[265] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

closely,  for  all  his  apparent  carelessness.  When  she 
continued  silent,  he  laughed  and  swept  his  sombrero 
to  the  ground  and  sauntered  away.  She  knew  then 
that  he  had  simply  tried  her,  to  see  if  by  any  chance 
she  showed  knowledge  of,  or  fear  for,  the  outlaw  she 
had  never  disowned  as  cousin. 

Teresa,  seated  beside  her,  saw  her  changing  color, 
and  reached  over,  patting  her  hand. 

"  Even  when  thou  wert  little  the  Capitan  made  a 
pet  of  thee,"  she  said,  kindly ;  "  and  now  every  friend 
he  ever  had  is  being  watched.  If — if — in  any  way 
you  could  warn  him — " 

"  Warn  him  ?  How  can  we,  when  no  one 
knows  ?  I  would  walk  barefoot  across  San  Juan 
Mountain  if  I  knew  where  he  was  hidden.  He  may 
be  dying,  or  dead." 

"That  is  so,"  decided  Teresa,  placidly;  "and  it 
would  be  better.  They  will  always  hunt  him  if  he  is 
alive." 

There  was  silence  between  them  for  a  little  while, 
and  then  she  added,  "  Well,  there  will  be  no  mourning 
for  him  in  the  Arteaga  family.  Rafael  will  be  glad." 

"Oh,  he  !  "  muttered  Ana,  with  impatience.  "  He 
is  hanging  on  the  skirts  of  Dofta  Maria  these  days, 
when  he  should  be  here  with  these  other  fine  gentle 
men."  She  pointed  to  the  plaza  where  the  vigilantes 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

and  their  friends  were  gathered  preparatory  to  starting 
on  a  new  trail  suggested  by  an  Indian  who  had  seen  a 
white  man  without  a  horse  somewhere  in  the  hills. 

"  On  the  skirts  of  Dofta  Maria,"  repeated  Teresa, 
her  little  eyes  twinkling  with  interest.  "  It  is  true, 
then  —  it  is  that  English  woman  still  ?" 

"  Still  ?  How  you  talk  !  Is  it  so  long  since  Los 
Angeles  ? " 

"Oh,  it  was  long,  long  before  that !  I  was  —  Santa 
Maria !  —  I  had  a  fright  for  a  while  !  I  thought  there 
would  be  no  wedding.  He  was  crazy  as  a  boy  over 
her.  It  started,  oh,  with  only  a  pin-point  of  a  chance; 
for  the  Americano  Bryton  was  here,  and  her  eyes  were 
for  him!  And  then  —  Basta !  All  at  once  things 
changed,  and  Dona  Angela  and  Don  Rafael  were  never 
apart ;  and  if  she  had  not  been  married,  I  think  always 
Raquel  Estevan  would  have  had  no  husband  here  in 
San  Juan  Capistrano." 

"  Raquel  —  does  she  know  ?  " 

"  Raquel  Estevan  is  too  proud  to  show  if  she  knows, 
just  as  she  is  now !  Never  will  she  go  along  or  follow 
him  when  he  rides  abroad,  but  if  she  knew  his  time 
was  with  that  heretic  —  she  hates  the  heretics!  " 

"  She  is  patient  with  him." 

"  Oh,  sure ;  she  is  a  good  wife.  But  if  she  cared 
more,  would  she  do  as  she  did  when  the  girl  Marta 

[267] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

came  to  the  Mission  with  her  child  ?  On  my  soul,  I 
think  Rafael  was  afraid  when  she  gave  to  Marta  the 
bed  and  the  clothes,  and  counted  out  how  many 
cattle  she  could  have,  —  to  say  no  word  as  to  how 
she  stood  herself  as  godmother  at  the  baptism !  The 
padre  laughs  over  that !  " 

"  And  Rafael  —  ?" 

"Rafael — God  knows  what  he  said  to  her!  He 
tried  to  make  her  send  some  one  else  as  godmother,  and 
she  would  not.  Ysadora  heard  her  say  { It  is  for  your 
soul's  sake,  and  the  souls  of  your  children,  Rafael,' 
and  he  turned  white  and  walked  away." 

"  Poor  Rafael, "  mocked  Ana,  "  I  do  not  think  that 
he  has  much  of  a  soul.  It  is  as  when  a  man  sees 
he  is  beloved  for  his  bravery,  and  all  the  time  he 
is  afraid  of  his  own  shadow,  and  hopes  the  one  who 
loves  him  will  not  discover  his  weakness:  that  is 
how  Rafael  feels  when  his  wife  does  penance,  and 
prays  for  the  soul  he  has  not." 

"  How  you  talk  !  We  have  all  a  soul ;  the  padre 
says  so." 

"  Oh,  the  padre  !  The  soul  of  our  padre  is  also 
like  a  grain  of  mustard  seed  —  so  small,  and  no  soil 
to  grow  in  !  Never  could  I  confess  to  him.  I  wait 
until  Padre  Sanchez  comes;  no  one  but  a  Franciscan 
priest  do  I  believe  in." 

E*«] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Ai !  and  if  you  should  get  sick  and  die,  and  Padre 
Sanchez  on  some  other  side  of  the  world  ?  He  is 
always  travelling ;  never  will  he  settle  and  gather 
'dobe  dollars  like  our  padre.  Suppose  he  should  not 
come;  you  would  die  without  confession  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  would  hang  on  to  the  edge  of  life  by  some 
thread  of  prayer  until  he  came." 

"  Padre  Pedro  of  the  north  was  here  last  month : 
that  man  makes  me  afraid.  He  tries  to  be  a  saint, 
and  is  so  often  under  vows.  This  time  it  was  a  vow 
not  to  speak,  and  Padre  Andros  was  glad  when  he 
took  to  the  road.  It  was  like  a  black  ghost  to  see 
him  walk  the  plaza  with  a  black  hood  over  his  head, 
and  never  a  word  or  look  up  from  the  ground. 
You  would  think  the  saints  he  prayed  to  lived  some 
where  in  the  roads.  We  thanked  God  and  emptied 
some  bottles  with  the  padre  when  he  was  out  of 
sight." 

"  But  he  is  a  good  man." 

"  Oh,  he  is  a  saint ;  but  we  can't  feel  easy  with  saints 
in  San  Juan.  That  is  why  your  Raquel  Estevan  will 
always  be  outside." 

"  You  mean  above,"  retorted  Ana.  "  The  devil's 
face  in  the  stone  of  the  Mission  dome  fits  better  this 
place  of  the  necklace  of  ears." 

Teresa  shuddered. 


:im 


ferfttKf 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"It  is  bad  luck  to  say  things  of  that  face,"  she 
warned.  "  Some  think  maybe  it  was  an  Indian  god, 
— I  heard  an  old  Indio  say  so  once.  Never  will  I  go 
under  the  dome  of  that  old  vestry  since  that  day." 

"  How  would  an  Indian  god  be  put  in  a  Christian 
church  ? " 

"  No  one  knows,"  and  Teresa  crossed  herself. 
"The  old  Indies  say  it  is  bad  luck  to  talk  about  it; 
so  whatever  the  story  is,  it  has  been  forgotten,  and 
that  is  better.  When  I  was  a  little  child  the 
old  Indies  told  strange  ghost  and  curse  stories,  and 
we  were  all  much  afraid;  now  the  old  Indies  are 
mostly  dead,  and  no  one  else  remembers,  only  all  are 
still  afraid  of  the  earthquake  ruin  at  night." 

"  They  are  sheep ;  they  are  afraid  of  their  shadows 
at  night,"  retorted  Ana;  "that  is  why  Raquel  will 
always  be,  as  you  say,  'outside' !  " 

"  Well,  she  goes  against  the  padre,  and  that  is 
always  bad.  It  is  bad  luck  to  fight  a  padre;  he  can 
refuse  absolution." 

Ana  made  no  reply.  She  was  very  weary  of  the 
endless,  endless  stories  of  Raquel's  unlikeness  to  the 
other  women ;  and  what  they  did  not  understand  they 
would  like  to  condemn.  She  knew  so  well  that  in 
Mexico  the  Dofta  Luisa  and  the  Dofta  Raquel  had 
met  only  the  hidalgos  when  they  went  for  a  brief  visit 

[270] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

to  the  world  of  people,  but  in  San  Juan  there  were 
no  hidalgos ;  only  the  mixed  races  without  pride  of 
birth  or  distinction,  apart  from  the  lands  and  cattle 
around  them  on  the  ranges.  Ana  could  feel,  better 
than  any  other,  why  the  wife  of  Rafael  rode  alone  to 
the  cliffs  above  the  sea,  seeking  kinship  there  in  the 
isolation. 

In  vain  Ana  had  tried  to  solve  the  problem 
given  her  by  the  padre  at  the  San  Joaquin  ranch 
that  strange  evening:  his  quick  change  of  attitude 
toward  the  Americano,  —  even  asking  her  friendliness 
and  her  welcome  for  him  if  he  crossed  her  path.  The 
queer  idea  of  the  Americano's  love  affairs  was  the 
most  puzzling  of  all :  it  never  occurred  to  her  that  he 
meant  Raquel  —  Raquel,  who  avoided  all  heretics! 
Still,  it  was  strange  that  she  never  thought  of  the 
Americano's  love  affair  without  involuntarily  trying 
to  picture  a  woman  who  would  look  like  Raquel.  And 
she  did  not  dream  those  two  had  ever  met. 

As  Pico  and  his  men  got  into  the  saddles  and 
started  north  she  heard  him  mention  Bryton's  name. 
The  latter  had  evidently  tired  quickly  of  vigilante 
work ;  at  any  rate  he  had  disappeared  as  effectually 
as  El  Capitan,  —  no  one  had  seen  him  for  over  a  week. 
And  of  course  no  one  had  time  to  hunt  him  up. 

At  Trabuco  Creek  the  vigilantes  passed  an  Indian 
[271] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

boy  loping  easily  along  the  valley  road.  When 
stopped  and  questioned,  he  stated  he  was  going  to  the 
Mission  from  San  Joaquin  ranch.  The  brand  on  the 
bronco  corroborated  his  story,  and  he  was  let  pass 
with  slight  attention;  yet  they  would  have  found  him 
quite  worth  while. 

Ana  had  gone  with  Teresa  to  make  a  little  visit  to 
Don  Juan  Alvara,  who  was  still  ill,  and  very  impatient 
at  being  housed  up  when  all  the  world  of  San  Juan 
was  astir  to  see  the  cavalcade  of  avengers.  He  was 
asking  sharply  why  Rafael  Arteaga  was  following  his 
English  partner's  example,  and  keeping  out  of  the 
work  of  search  or  battle.  It  was  to  be  expected  that 
Don  Eduardo  Downing,  after  being  forced  by  El 
Capitan  to  pay  over  a  thousand  dollars  as  tribute  to 
the  Flores  bandits,  would  feel  that  he  was  exempt 
from  active  service  in  pursuit  of  them;  they  had  cost 
him  quite  enough.  And  of  course  he  had  never  any 
thing  but  an  alien's  interest  in  the  country,  the  interest 
of  dollars ;  but  with  Rafael  Arteaga  it  was  different. 
What  was  he  doing  these  days,  when  every  man  who 
held  stock  and  could  fight  rode  abroad  ? 

The  women  exchanged  glances.  Of  what  use  to 
tell  Alvara  it  was  a  woman  ?  He  would  only  be  more 
disgusted,  and  might  say  things  to  Dona  Raquel,  and 
that  would  never  do. 

[272] 


I 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Teresa's  curiosity  as  to  results  led  her  very  close  to 
it,  for  her  new  sister-in-law  was  a  thorn  in  the  side 
of  the  bovine  ponderous  Californian,  by  whom  the 
"brown  girls"  had  been  accepted  as  a  part  of  domestic 
life.  Ever  since  she  had  listened  that  day  to  the  story 
of  vengeance  in  Old  Mexico,  she  had  resented  every 
thing  about  it,  even  the  child  of  that  strange  mar 
riage,  the  child  who  had  inherited  —  who  knew  how 
much? — of  the  blood  and  instincts  of  that  saintly, 
half-Indian  nun. 

Yes,  Teresa  would  have  dearly  loved  to  watch 
Raquel  Estevan  when  the  story  was  told;  also  the 
story  of  Rafael's  latest  infatuation ;  yet,  all  the  Arteaga 
boys  had  died  violent  deaths,  and  she  had  no  wish  to 
see  the  last  one  of  them  murdered.  She  was  certain 
that  if  it  did  happen,  the  ghost  of  Dona  Luisa  would 
be  at  the  foot  of  her  bed  every  night,  and  she  would 
have  to  pay  a  lot  for  masses.  They  cost  thirty-five 
dollars  since  the  padre  was  building  new  fences  around 
his  orchards.  So  she  contented  herself  with  wishing 
as  much  as  she  dared  without  being  held  liable  by  the 
ghost  of  Dona  Luisa  in  case  of  accidents.  And  then 
Ana  was  always  there  with  her  eyes,  and  if  any  one 
did  tell  Alvara,  Ana  would  ferret  it  out,  and  she  had 
such  a  tongue ! 

While  they  reassured  the  old  man,  and  told  him 

073] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

the  troublous  days  of  San  Juan  were  nearly  over,  the 
Indian  boy  from  the  San  Joaquin  ranch  stopped  at 
the  gate. 

"There  is  a  letter  for  Dofia  Ana  Mendez,"  he 
said.  "It  came  last  night.  Dofta  Refugia  sent  it." 

"Dona  Refugia?"  Ana  knew  that  her  aunt  could 
not  write,  and  that  the  accomplishments  of  her  daugh 
ters  in  that  line  extended  to  the  ability  to  inscribe 
their  own  names.  She  glanced  at  the  message,  and 
her  lips  grew  suddenly  white  as  she  noted  the  writing. 

It  was  in  pencil,  written  very  plainly.  The  envelope 
was  folded  from  a  page  of  letter-paper  and  sealed 
with  gum  of  some  sort.  When  she  opened  it,  she 
found  the  written  page  was  a  communication  to  Mr. 
Bryton  concerning  saddle-horses.  But  a  pencil  was 
drawn  through  the  lines,  and  around  the  Bryton  letter 
was  written  the  real  message,  and  it  was  very  brief : 

"A  man  is  hurt  here.  Can  you  in  quiet  help  him 
to  San  Juan  ?  " 

An  arrow  and  a  cross  were  the  only  signature. 

Teresa  watched  Ana  questioningly.  Letters  to 
women  were  rare  in  San  Juan,  where  few  women  could 
read  ;  it  must  be  of  a  death,  or  something  of  great  im 
portance. 

But  Ana  told  nothing,  only  ordered  the  boy  to  go1 
to  Ysadora  for  some  lunch  before  he  started  back,  and 

I>74] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

to  tell  Dona  Refugia  that  all  was  well  at  San  Juan. 
Though  Dona  Teresa  listened  closely,  that  was  all 
she  could  hear  that  was  said,  and  then  she  knew,  of 
course,  that  Ana  did  not  intend  to  remain  a  widow. 
She  had  a  lover  who  wrote  letters,  an  Americano  per 
haps;  the  Mexicans  did  not  trouble  themselves  with 
such  useless  learning,  now  that  the  old  padres  were  gone. 

Ana  sat  quietly  on  the  veranda  for  a  little  while, 
speaking  of  matters  in  general,  and  then  arose  lan 
guidly  and  confessed  she  wished  she  had  gone  with 
Raquel.  A  ride  to  the  beach  was  better  than  to  stay 
shut  up  in  the  town.  Now  that  the  vigilantes  had 
gone,  women  would  dare  ride  abroad  without  growing 
gray  with  fear. 

"Ai!  it  is  not  far  you  would  ride,  Ana  Mendez. 
You  are  like  other  women  when  it  comes  to  riding 
alone  these  days." 

"Raquel  rides  alone." 

"Her  mother  was  not  of  this  country,  or  she  would 
not  be  so  bold,"  returned  Teresa,  tartly.  "  Men  have 
little  liking  for  women  as  strong  as  themselves." 

"  Alas  for  me ! "  laughed  Ana,  "  for  I  tell  you  now 
I  am  going  to  copy  after  her.  She  makes  the  other 
women  look  like  sheep.  If  she  would  go  with  me,  I 
would  ride  to  the  San  Joaquin  ranch  this  night  and 
have  no  fear." 

!>75] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Teresa  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"You  grow  like  a  child,  Ana,  as  you  get  more  years. 
Your  letter  makes  you  young  again  —  so?" 

But  Ana  was  out  of  the  gate,  and  crossing  the  plaza 
with  a  light  springy  step,  as  if  indeed  the  days  of  girl 
hood  had  come  back.  In  her  eyes  was  a  smile,  but 
back  of  the  smile  was  a  light  of  new  determination. 
All  at  once  she  seemed  to  have  found  herself:  he  was 
in  danger,  and  had  called  her. 

At  the  Mission  she  found  the  Indian  boy  with  a 
dish  of  frijolles. 

"How  did  the  letter  come?"  she  asked,  but  he  did 
not  know.  It  was  found  under  the  door,  and  it  had 
frightened  Dona  Refugia,  and  she  wanted  it  out  of 
the  house  when  the  men  were  away.  She  thought  it, 
maybe,  was  a  demand  for  money,  such  as  the  outlaws 
had  sent  Senor  Eduardo  Downing,  and  she  asked  Ana 
for  the  love  of  God  to  send  word  back  quick  what 
it  meant. 

"It  is  only  from  the  padre  who  borrowed  the 
horse,  and  he  thanks  her,"  said  Ana,  coolly.  "  Ride 
straight  home,  and  talk  to  no  one,  or  you  will  get  a 
reata  instead  of  frijolles." 

The  Indian  boy  nodded  silently.  He  knew  the 
Dona  Ana  always  kept  her  promises  of  that  sort. 

A  little  later,  Teresa  looked  out  at  the  sound  of 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF 

horse-hoofs  thundering  by,  and  saw  Ana  on  the  road 
to  the  sea. 

She  let  her  horse  have  his  head  until  she  came  to 
the  Rancho  de  la  Playa,  when  she  halted  to  scan  the 
meadow  and  sand  of  the  shore,  and  then  bent  her 
attention  to  the  ground,  and  paced  slowly  along  until 
she  found  the  tracks  of  Raquel's  horse  turning  to  the 
right.  There  was  only  one  road  to  be  followed  to 
the  right;  she  had  gone  through  the  little  canon  of 
the  cactus  and  up  to  the  heights  above.  More  than 
once  Dona  Ana  halted  to  examine  the  ground,  to  be 
sure  that  no  later  tracks  had  been  made  on  a  return 
trip.  Then,  away  across  the  mesa  she  saw  Raquel's 
horse  browsing  among  the  sage-brush  on  the  cliff 
above  the  sea.  Raquel  was  nowhere  in  sight;  but, 
knowing  she  was  near,  Ana  rode  quietly  along  the 
bluff,  until  right  at  the  edge  of  the  cliff  she  saw  her 
stretched  at  full  length  in  the  odorous  grasses, 
her  chin  propped  on  her  hands,  staring  down  the 
steeps  where  yellow  poppies  nodded  to  the  surf  below. 
A  cluster  of  the  blossoms  was  beside  her,  and  her 
skirt  was  torn.  She  had  evidently  been  down  there 
after  them,  and  was  resting  after  her  climb. 

"What  is  it,  Anita?"  she  asked  after  a  brief 
upward  glance.  "Is  there  a  spirit  of  unrest  with  you 
also?  Some  say  there  is  sleep  and  forgetfulness  in 

[277] 


?     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

these  little  cups  of  gold.  I  have  gathered  some  and 
lain  here  a  long  time,  but  it  is  not  true,  Anita.  There 
is  no  forgetting." 

Ana  slipped  from  the  saddle  and  came  closer. 
Never  before  had  so  much  of  confession  been  heard 
from  Raquel  Arteaga. 

"What,  then,  do  you  try  to  forget,  my  darling?" 
she  asked,  caressingly.  "Your  love  and  happiness?" 

"Love  is  not  happiness,"  said  Raquel,  and  laid  her 
cheek  against  the  sheaf  of  poppies.  "Why  do  people 
say  so?  Do  they  wish  to  lie,  or  do  they  not  know? 
The  heart  does  not  laugh  with  love ;  it  aches.  The 
light  and  the  glory  of  it  comes,  and  after  that  comes 
the  earthquake;  and  the  life  is  shaken  out  of  us,  and 
all  we  can  do  is  to  make  ourselves  a  sacrifice." 

"Holy  saints!  I  never  knew  love  was  all  that!" 
acknowledged  Ana.  "It  means  also  to  dance,  to 
listen  to  your  lover's  songs  in  the  night  under  your 
window,  and  to  go  to  sleep  satisfied  that  he  is  not  with 
some  other  girl.  It  means  stolen  looks  like  kisses.  I 
never  am  sure  but  that  they  are  sweeter  than  the 
kisses  themselves,  though  they  do  not  make  one 
mad." 

Raquel  looked  at  her,  and  smiled  strangely,  and 
rose  to  her  feet. 

"Ai!  you  are  right,    Anita;    it    is  without    doubt 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

more  wise  to  love  like  that.  All  the  girls .  in  the 
willows  think  so."  As  she  saw  Ana's  face  flush,  she 
turned  in  quick  contrition.  "Ah,  forgive  me!  You 
do  not  love  as  they  do,  I  am  sure  —  those  fat  brown 
animals;  but,  Anita  darling,  I  am  a  tired  soul,  and 
rest  is  somewhere  far  beyond  the  ranges,  and  —  ah, 
well,  —  forgive  me ! " 

Ana  smiled  and  shrugged  her  shoulders. 

"Why  should  I  not?  "  she  asked;  "for,  after  all,  you 
are  right.  All  human  things  are  much  alike  when 
they  love — the  brown  girls  in  the  willows  also.  They 
nurse  their  babies  and  thank  the  Virgin  they  are  not 
childless,  as  I  am." 

"And  you  —  ?" 

"I  am  thankful  to  be  as  I  am.  When  I  have  chil 
dren,  I  want  to  love  the  father  of  them.  My  people 
did  not  ask  if  I  loved  my  husband.  They  made  the 
marriage,  and  God  made  me  a  widow.  I  thank  God 
always  that  when  I  marry  again  I  can  do  my  own 
choosing." 

"Oh,  when  you  marry  again!  Good!  When  is  it 
to  be?" 

Ana  laughed  and  then  grew  grave. 

"You  may  help  me  to  decide,"  she  said,  a  trifle 
nervously.  "  I  am  going  to  elope  to-night.  Will 
you  ride  along  ?  " 

[>79] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Anita!" 

"  It  is  up  there,"  and  Ana  waved  her  hand  toward 
the  blue  mountains  above  Trabuco.  "It  is  a  long 
ride,  but  the  moon  shines,  and  —  I  am  trusting  you !" 

"And  the  man?" 

"Your  husband  hates  him,  and  will  find  fault 
if  you  go." 

"And  he  does  not  come  to  you  ? " 

"He  is  —  I  think  he  is  hurt,"  said  Ana.  "And  I 
am  going,  though  I  go  alone." 

"You  shall  not  go  alone,"  and  Raquel  whistled 
to  her  horse.  "Come!  I  needed  something  of  this 
sort  to  rouse  me  from  poppy  dreams.  I  ride  with 
you,  my  Anita;  and  the  man,  whoever  he  is,  has 
my  blessing." 

They  galloped  together  through  the  sweet-smelling 
grasses,  and  a  load  was  lifted  from  Ana's  heart. 
With  Raquel  beside  her,  she  could  ride  care-free  from 
danger  to  the  man  who  had  called  her. 

"I  have  not  been  told  to  take  any  one  aiong," 
she  confessed,  "  so  I  cannot  mention  names ;  but 
there  is  a  man  hurt,  and  we  must  manage  to  get  extra 
horses  away  from  the  Mission,  and  things  to  eat, 
perhaps,  for  we  go  where  no  people  live;  and  —  I 
—  that  is  all  I  dare  tell  you." 

"It  is  enough,  my  Anita.  We  will  ride  together 
[280] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

like  nobles  of  old  Spain  seeking  adventures,  only 
we  will  storm  no  castles,  and  wear  no  colors  to  denote 
our  caballeros !  " 

She  was  elated  as  a  child  over  the  secret  journey 
they  were  to  take  over  unknown  roads.  The  poppy 
dreams  were  left  at  the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  she 
rode  lightly  across  the  divide,  where  at  other  times 
she  ever  halted  for  the  picture  of  ocean  and  valley 
stretching  from  San  Mateo  at  the  sea  to  San  Jacinto 
of  the  ranges. 

"  I  knew  it  was  love  in  thy  heart  for  some  one, 
Anita,"  she  said,  smiling.  "Religion  alone  does  not 
make  a  woman  comprehend  heartaches  for  other 
women.  You  are  the  only  one  of  all  of  them  who 
asks  no  questions,  yet  you  put  your  arms  around  me 
that  crazy  night  when  I  rode  from  Los  Angeles, 
and  all  at  once  I  felt  that  I  need  not  hold  with  tired 
hands  a  mask  to  my  face  for  you." 

"  Holy  Mary  !  I  know,  and  why  not  ?  My  family 
married  me  to  the  wrong  man,"  said  Ana,  easily. 
"  But  I  was  lucky  in  one  thing,  and  I  know  enough 
now  to  thank  the  saints  for  it, —  I  had  not  learned 
what  love  meant,  so  the  other  man  had  not  come." 

"And  if  he  had?" 

They  had  checked  their  speed  to  descend  the  steep 
ravine  cut  in  the  heart  of  the  mesa,  and  giving  outlet 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

to  the  blue  sea.  Raquel  was  intent,  apparently,  on 
finding  the  best  footing  for  her  horse,  and  did  not 
look  up  at  once,  but  when  no  reply  came  she  tried 
to  laugh,  and  repeated  the  question. 

"  I  did  not  answer,"  said  Ana,  after  a  moment, 
"  because,  Raquelita,  when  you  made  me  think  of  it, 
truly  it  seemed  as  if  my  heart  stopped  beating  that 
minute.  Poor  Jose,  my  husband  !  It  would  have 
gone  hard  with  him,  and  my  relatives  would  have 
cursed  me." 

"And  why?" 

"  I  think  I  should  have  risked  the  purgatory  they 
would  have  sent  me  to,  but  I  would  ride  as  we  are 
riding  now,  straight  to  the  man —  the  one  man." 

"And  suppose  —  suppose,  Anita,  you  were  bound 
by  a  vow  to  the  dead  —  could  you  ride  away  from 
that  ?  Suppose  that  so  long  as  you  lived  you  were 
set  to  guard  one  living  soul  —  that  each  day  when 
you  awoke,  your  prayers  were  to  keep  worthy  for  the 
task ;  suppose  — 

"No,  no!  I  will  not  suppose.  A  woman  can 
endure  just  so  much,  no  more.  I  know  you  are 
doing  all  this,  my  Raquel,  and  I  see  that  it  is  forever 
one  big  fight  and  sacrifice,  and  all  your  life  it  will  be 
the  same.  But,  Raquel,  when  you  awake  and  pray 
each  morning,  thank  the  Virgin  at  the  same  time  that 

[282] 


•9*38 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  other  man  has  not  yet  ridden  into  your  heart.  I 
know  you  do  not  think  of  men  —  that  it  is  to  live  ever 
in  cloisters  !  But  pray  God  that  the  man  may  never 
come,  Raquel  —  for  a  girl  is  only  a  girl,  after  all !  " 

"  Of  course,  but  — ' 

"  Oh,  you  would  argue,  because  you  do  not 
know!"  burst  out  Ana,  with  impatience.  "Raquel, 
you  are  so  good  you  are  always  beautiful;  but  I 
tell  you  truly,  that  if  it  should  happen  —  all  the 
saints  could  not  help  you.  Between  your  vow  for 
the  soul  of  Rafael  and  your  love  for  the  one  man  — " 

"Well,  my  Anita?" 

"Well,  you  could  not  live  through  it  and  remain 
what  you  are.  Any  woman  would  go  mad  —  any 
woman." 

Raquel  touched  her  horse  and  galloped  up  the 
steep  hill  ahead  of  Ana.  Down  the  longer  one  to 
Boca  de  la  Playa  she  rode  in  the  same  reckless  way, 
and  it  was  not  until  they  had  reached  El  Camino 
Real  that  she  pulled  her  horse  in,  and  allowed  Ana 
to  come  alongside. 

"Jesusita!  how  you  ride  away  from  me!"  gasped 
her  friend.  "  Wait  until  I  braid  up  my  hair.  Look 
at  it  —  all  the  new  pins  lost,  the  pretty  ones  you 
brought  me  from  Los  Angeles.  We  will  send  a  boy 
back  to  hunt  them." 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

Raquel  sat  silent  on  her  panting  horse,  looking 
out  on  the  wide  sea  and  saying  nothing.  Ana 
glanced  at  her  white  face  while  braiding  her  hair, 
and  thought  it  looked  cold  and  determined,  almost 
angry ;  and  as  they  started  on  once  more,  she  reached 
across  and  touched  her  hand. 

"  Do  not  make  your  eyes  like  cold  agates  of  violet," 
she  entreated.  "  Truly,  I  meant  not  to  anger  you,  and 
I  know  you  are  good  always,  and  think  only  of  your 
vows.  But  even  the  saints  have  known  temptation, 
my  Raquel,  and  some  who  might  have  been  saints 
have  lost  souls  for  a  man  or  a  woman." 

"Oh,  my  own  soul!"  and  Raquel  shrugged  her 
shoulders  with  a  dreary  smile.  "It  is  the  soul  of 
Rafael  I  am  set  to  guard.  Only  that  must  I  think  of 
every  day  of  my  life.  My  own!  Only  Mother 
Mary  knows  what  my  own  may  become." 

"His  mother  knew  the  power  of  the  heretics;  it 
was  not  fair,  Raquelita." 

"  It  is  judgment,"  said  Raquel,  steadily.  "  I  asked 
God  to  give  me  some  work  for  the  Church  in  the 
world,  instead  of  within  the  convent  walls.  It  was 
brought  to  me;  I  accepted  it  on  my  knees.  What 
any  of  us  think  now  does  not  change  that  in  the  least. 
I  must  live  till  I  die  with  that  thought." 

"  So  I  know,"  conceded  Ana,  "  and  so  I  thank  God 
[284] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  other  man  does  not  come.  You  would  know 
then  how  to  feel  sympathy  for  the  women  who  fail, 
or  the  women  who  do  mad  things  such  as  I  mean  to 
do  to-night." 

"  Do  I  not  understand  ?  Do  I  not  go  with  you  ? 
Yes,  ahead  of  you,  for  my  horse  beats  yours,"  replied 
Raquel;  and  from  that  to  the  Mission  plaza  there 
was  only  the  sound  of  hoof-beats  on  the  hard  road, 
and  no  more  words  of  love  or  lovers. 

A  man  had  come  from  San  Diego  with  a  message 
from  Rafael  Arteaga.  He  would  be  at  San  Juan  in  a 
few  days,  and  was  bringing  guests  for  a  barbecue. 
Strange  word  had  come  from  the  vigilantes  of  the  dis 
appearance  of  Bryton,  the  Americano.  It  had  been 
learned  that  he  had  not  returned  to  Los  Angeles, 
neither  had  he  gone  south.  To  free  Mrs.  Bryton 
from  anxiety,  Rafael  and  Don  Eduardo  meant  to  find 
him  and  make  a  holiday  while  doing  it. 

Raquel  Arteaga  listened,  and  Ana  noticed  all  at 
once  how  white  and  tired  she  looked  from  the  little 
gallop. 

"Get  down  from  the  saddle,  my  dear,"  she  said, 
appealingly.  "  Lift  her,  you,  Victorio.  Mother 
Mary  !  Do  not  faint,  Raquel ! " 

Raquel  did  not  faint.  She  thanked  the  muscular 
Victorio,  who  lifted  her  from  the  saddle  as  though 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

she  had  been  but  a  little  child,  and  placed  her  on  one 
of  the  long  seats  of  brick,  while  Ana  ran  for  water, 
and  old  Polonia  crouched  beside  her  and  looked  up  in 
her  face,  but  did  not  speak.  She  had  heard  the  name 
of  the  hated  Americano,  and  she  had  no  need  to  ask 
questions.  It  was  the  witchcraft  come  over  her  again; 
even  the  sound  of  his  name  could  bring  it ! 

"  No,  I  am  not  ill,  Ana.  I  really  am  not,"  she 
persisted.  <l  You  say  I  turn  white.  Well,  it  may  be  I 
had  no  dinner —  I  think  I  forgot  it,  or  those  heroes 
the  vigilantes  took  my  appetite.  See!  I  can  stand; 
I  am  quite  well.  I  am  ready  for  the  San  Joaquin 
ride  when  the  sun  goes  down." 

"But,  if  harm  should  come?" 

"  Never  fear.  To  go  will  not  harm  me.  I  am 
very  strong  —  stronger  than  you  think.  Ai !  I 
shall  live  long — a  long,  long  time,  Anita ! " 

She  arose  and  passed  through  the  door  of  the 
carved  Aztec  sun  and  little  half-crescents,  and  Ana 
looked  after  her  doubtfully. 

"It  is  the  Americana?  "  said  Victorio,  with  a  shrug 
and  lifted  brows.  "  Rafael  Arteaga  is  mad  after  that 
baby  woman — just  mad.  I  think  it  makes  Dona 
Maria  afraid.  It  would  not  be  well  to  have  the 
wrong  things  happen  in  her  house;  so  they  jump  at 
the  chance  to  ride  north  together,  for  any  reason  at 


" 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

all,  and  bring  Don  Rafael  to  his  own  wife.  That  is 
all  the  reason  they  come:  Dofia  Maria  is  afraid." 

"  But  to  bring  them  here  !  The  Dofia  Raquel  is 
not  fond  of  heretics." 

"  I  think  myself  it  is  the  woman  and  not  the 
religion  she  will  think  of  when  they  come,"  said 
Victorio ;  "  and  she  must  have  heard  something,  — 
what  else  made  her  look  like  that  ? " 

"  Who  knows  ?  A  woman  may  be  tired,  may  she 
not  ?  You  talk  a  great  deal  for  a  man  of  your  years ! " 

"  Oh,  it  is  only  to  you,  Senora.  It  is  as  well  some 
one  knows  who  is  a  friend, —  that  pretty  white  baby 
of  a  woman  has  the  '  money  eye.'  Some  one  should 
warn  Dofta  Raquel,  for  who  knows  where  it  will  end? 
You  know  the  Arteaga  men." 

Ana  nodded  her  head. 

"  We  all  know  them ;  but,  thanks  to  God,  the 
right  woman  has  come  into  the  family.  I  do  not 
know  what  she  will  do — Estevan's  daughter;  but 
Rafael  will  learn  what  a  curb-bit  means  if  he  go  too 
far.  Women  who  do  not  care  whether  they  live  or 
die  are  more  reckless  than  the  wildest  man,  Victorio; 
and  Rafael  will  do  well  to  say  good-bye  to  heretic 
pets." 

Victorio  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  did  not  quite 
believe.  Of  course  a  woman  could  do  a  lot  with  a 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

man  if  he  was  not  so  foolish  as  to  marry  her,  but 
after  that  what  could  she  do  but  keep  the  home  and 
obey  ?  Some  of  them  found  other  amusements  when 
their  husbands  rode  abroad,  but  what  more  could  they 
do  than  that,  even  the  most  powerful  ? 

Of  course  if  Dofia  Raquel  were  not  his  wife,  Rafael 
might  be  faithful:  Victorio  acknowledged  he  knew 
how  that  was  himself.  There  was  a  woman  who  kept 
his  house,  and  now  after  four  years  of  content,  the 
padre  was  at  him  for  a  marriage  fee,  and  was  putting 
the  devil  in  the  woman's  head,  and  there  was  discord, 
All  had  been  content  for  all  those  years,  but  when 
the  marriage  was  even  talked  of,  there  was  trouble ; 
and  Victorio  had  no  use  for  it  except,  of  course,  if  the 
woman  was  dying,  or  if  he  was  —  then  the  padre  could 
get  the  marriage  made.  The  money  was  saved  up  in 
case  of  such  need  for  absolution,  but  otherwise — 

Ana  interrupted  him  angrily,  though  she  knew  he 
voiced  the  masculine  opinion  of  the  valley.  She  had 
heard  the  padre  complain  that  the  women  had  also 
refused  marriage  for  the  same  reason;  so  there  was 
little  could  be  done,  and  she  knew  that  if  Rafael 
Arteaga  should  fail  openly  within  the  year  of  his 
marriage,  there  would  be  laughs  and  shrugs,  and  the 
marriage  fees  would  be  fewer  than  ever.  The  example 
of  their  superiors  was  all  that  was  needed  to  break  all 

088] 


7=f 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  little  invisible  bonds  told  of  in  the  prayer-books, 
but  remembered  so  little  in  the  everyday  life. 

"Oh,  you  need  not  rail  at  me,  Dona  Ana,"  pro 
tested  Victorio;  "I  am  only  one  —  and  I  feed  my 
children!  You  do  not  believe  so  much  in  Rafael 
Arteaga  yourself;  and,  after  all,  it  may  come  right. 
It  depends  most  on  the  woman." 

"Dona  Raquel  Arteaga?" 

"Never!  She  is  only  a  wife;  it  is  the  other  who  is 
still  the  woman." 

Ana  flung  an  angry  look  at  the  pessimistic,  philo 
sophic  vaquero,  and  followed  Raquel,  slamming  the 
door  after  her  to  emphasize  her  impatience  with  his 
all-too-true  statements. 

She  checked  her  tempestuous  entrance  at  sight  of 
the  wife  they  were  discussing,  kneeling  at  the  little 
altar  in  the  corner  of  her  own  room.  The  tall  candles 
were  lit,  and  before  the  shrine  of  the  Virgin  Raquel 
was  prostrate. 

Ana  crossed  herself  and  went  out  softly,  half  afraid 
that  the  argument  in  the  corridor  had  been  heard 
through  the  thick  adobe  walls.  This  new  sign  of 
Raquel's  disfavor  at  every  mention  of  the  Americanos 
gave  Ana  several  unpleasant  moments.  The  letter 
now  in  her  pocket  had  belonged  to  the  Americano 
whom  they  were  coming  to  search  for:  dare  she 

[289] 


& 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

mention  it  to  the  girl  kneeling  there  at  the  shrine? 
Or  did  not  the  news  brought  by  Victorio  Lopez  make 
more  imperative  the  need  for  secrecy  ?  In  riding  the 
hills  for  Bryton,  what  others  hidden  there  might  be 
discovered  for  death  ? 

Ana  sent  an  Indian  with  a  pack-mule  of  provisions 
to  the  sheep-herders'  cabin  in  Trabuco  cafton,  with 
instructions  to  wait  there  until  the  men  came  for  it, 
and  in  every  way  made  smooth  the  details  for  the 
journey  of  the  night. 

Don  Antonio,  the  major-domo  for  the  Arteagas, 
had  ridden  north  with  the  vigilantes,  so  there  was  no 
one  to  oppose  or  question  the  order  of  Ana,  given  in 
the  name  of  Dona  Raquel. 

Teresa  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  said  some 
things  when  the  two  mounted  and  rode  gaily  north 
ward.  She  hoped  Dona  Refugia  would  say  some  things 
to  them  for  the  good  of  their  souls  when  they  reached 
the  ranch.  Ana  had  always  been  a  little  rebel ;  it  was 
well  they  married  her  when  they  did!  No  one  gave 
much  heed  to  Ana's  vagaries  or  strange  whims,  but 
with  Raquel  it  was  different.  The  opinions  of  Dona 
Luisa  concerning  the  convent  novice  secured  as  a 
daughter  were  well  known  in  the  San  Juan  valley: 
she  was  a  saint,  no  less.  But  Teresa  watched  the 
slender  girlish  form  riding  away  on  the  black  horse, 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  hated  the  grace  and  daring  of  her  as  only  gross 
creatures  can  hate  refined  ones,  and  had  her  own 
ideas  of  two  women  who  were  young,  riding  like 
that  toward  darkness, — the  darkness  where  even  men 
scarcely  dared  ride  alone  these  days.  One  might  be 
saintly  in  soul,  yet  do  indiscreet  things  in  this 
mundane  world.  And  Teresa  wished  them  a  lesson, 
from  the  centre  of  her  fat  heart. 


•Ik 


ing 
adv 


[291] 


m 


Ml  Memoria. 

43 _ B A 

F-g#j  »          M R 1- 


Mi      me-  mo  -  ri   -   a 


en         ti       se      o   -  cu  -  pa 


No     te    ol  •  vi  -  da       un     so  -  lo  in-stan  -  te,        Y     mi    men  -  te 


dc  -  lir-  an   -    te  En    ti  pien-sa,  en  ti  pien-sa  sin  ce-sar. 


jed 

ne 


[292] 


CHAPTER  XVI 


f .  HE  dark  was  falling  when  the  two 
girls  reached  the  sheep-herders' 
cabin  in  Trabuco.  Jose,  the 
boy  with  the  pack-mules  and 
the  Jed  horse,  had  arrived  before 
them,  and,  shaking  with  fear, 
had  built  a  fire  with  which  to 

banish  the  threatening  shadows.  No  herders  were 
there,  and  to  stay  in  the  isolated  canon  with  the  mule 
and  mustang  was  not  to  his  taste.  Jose  belonged  to 
the  Mission  garden  work,  or  the  driving  of  the  cows  to 
pasture,  and  had  little  relish  for  the  adventurous  life 
of  the  ranges.  He  appreciated  not  at  all  the  confi 
dence  placed  in  him  by  the  laughing  Dona  Ana. 

But  Ana  had  no  desire  to  trust  an  older  man, 
even  an  Indian,  and  when  they  reached  the  cabin  she 
delighted  his  soul  by  giving  him  a  gold  piece,  the  first 
he  had  ever  earned,  and  telling  him  to  go  straight 
back  to  San  Juan ;  and  unless  he  wanted  his  own  ears 
to  wear  on  a  string  around  his  neck,  he  was  to  utter 

[*93] 


I 


•^•P»" 

n 


it 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

no  word  of  having  seen  any  one  at  the  sheep-herders' 
cabin.  His  task  was  over  when  he  left  the  provisions 
and  extra  horses  there. 

Glad  enough  to  escape  so  easily  from  the  prospect 
of  a  night  where  wild  cats  and  mountain  lions  were  no 
strangers,  Jose  not  only  promised,  but  swore  by  the 
Virgin  and  Jesusita  that  no  one  at  San  Juan  should 
be  the  wiser  for  his  having  seen  the  ladies  in  that  devil 
of  a  canon.  If  they  never  came  out  alive,  he  would 
confess  to  the  padre  before  All  Souls'  Day,  but  until 
then  not  a  word  would  they  get  from  him  even  by 
whippings  and  salt  water ! 

Despite  the  fervor  of  his  protestations,  Ana  rode  up 
the  terrace  of  the  mesa,  and  sat  there  watching  the 
trail  along  the  creek  until  she  saw  him  cross  far  below, 
a  moving  dot  against  the  yellow  stretch  of  sand,  and 
knew  that  he  was  indeed  moved  by  winged  fear  and 
had  none  of  the  courage  for  spy's  work. 

Raquel  watched  the  first  star  break  through  the 
blue,  and  knew  that,  if  he  was  alive,  somewhere  in 
the  width  of  California  a  man  watched  it  also,  and 
shut  out  for  one  brief  instant  any  crowding  humanity 
surrounding  him.  It  seemed  a  very  far-away  thing, 
this  tryst  of  the  star,  and  never — never,  any  day  of 
her  life,  durst  she  dream  of  bringing  it  closer. 

Ana  found  her  huddled  in  the  crooked  white  arm 

094] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

of  a  great  aliso  tree,  and  regarded  with  dismay  the 
quivering  shoulders  and  face  hidden  against  the  white 
bark. 

"Raquelita!"  she  said,  in  quick  contrition.  "I 
have  asked  too  much  of  you,  to  ride  with  me  blind 
fold  into  the  wilderness.  Say  so,  and  ride  back  while 
it  is  yet  light  to  reach  the  road.  It  was  wrong  to  ask 
you  to  share  burdens  of  others.  I  am  at  your  feet, 
darling.  Do  not  blame  me  too  much,  for  — ' 

Raquel  lifted  her  head  and  looked  at  her,  and 
smiled  through  tears. 

"Anita  mia,  you  cannot  send  me  back,  for  I  will 
not  go.  Do  not  fancy  me  unhappy  because  —  oh  — 
because  of  anything.  I  feel,  here  in  the  open,  more 
at  home  than  any  moment  since  I  came  to  California. 
We  were  of  the  hill  folk,  my  mother's  people,  and 
out  under  the  stars  in  the  night  all  their  old  buried 
instincts  awake  in  me — the  pagan  gladness  of  the 
wilderness." 

"  You  do  not  look  glad,"  said  Ana,  doubtfully. 

"Child,  child!  who  of  us  is  glad  with  unmixed 
gladness,  after  the  door  has  been  closed  on  our  youth 
and  the  dreams  of  youth?" 

She  slid  from  her  perch  and  slipped  her  hand 
through  her  friend's  arm. 

"  But  to-night,  beloved,  we  will  close  other  doors  — 

095] 


e  s 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  doors  of  the  world  of  people.  This  tree  shall  be 
the  last  landmark;  beyond  this  we  ride  over  enchanted 
ground,  and  fancy  all  wild  sweet  things  of  our  desti 
nation.  You  go  to  —  to  your  lover,  perhaps;  and  I 

—  I  ride  to  dream  dreams  in  the  open." 
"But,  Raquelita  —  " 

"  Never  fear  they  will  lead  us  too  far  astray,  the 
harmless  dreams,"  she  laughed.  "  If  they  do,  I  shall 
do  heavy  penance ;  be  sure  of  that !  " 

"  You  look  like  a  witch,  instead  of  a  devotee,  in 
this  half-light,"  observed  Ana.  "  Your  eyes  are  like 
stars ;  and  —  what  has  wakened  in  you  this  wild 
mood  ?  Is  it  the  wilderness  alone  ?  " 

"Not  quite,"  acknowledged  Raquel,  demurely. 
"  Since  you  will  have  a  definite  cause,  I  will  confess, 
Anita  mia,  that  it  was  the  white,  strong  arms  of —  of 

—  never  look  so  frightened,  dear, —  of  my  friend  the 
aliso  tree!" 

They  both  laughed,  but  Ana  sat  a  moment  by  the 
little  camp-fire  and  stared  at  her. 

"  That  is  all  very  well,  and  you  have  your  good 
fun  with  me,"  she  said ;  "  but  out  here  you  are  a 
different  person  from  the  lady  of  your  cloisters.  Yet 
nothing  has  happened  to  make  you  different — nothing, 
except  that  we  are  in  the  open." 

"  Nothing  ?  O  thou  wise  one  !  "  mocked  Raquel. 
[296] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  But  a  star  shone  out,  and  its  rays  bewitch  people 
sometimes,  when  it  shines  down  into  the  heart  until 
the  radiance  there  is  too  great  for  one  little  bosom  to 
hold ;  and  it  trembles  to  the  lips,  and  all  the  eager 
longings  of  the  world  are  understood,  and  one  feels 
very,  very  close  to  one's  own  soul;  and  one  feels  that 
just  beyond  that  star,  or  just  beyond  the  bend  of  the 
trail  up  here,  one  might  find  it.  So,  let  us  ride  hard 
and  fast,  my  Anita,  —  I  to  my  bewitched  fancies,  and 
you  to  your  lover." 

"  And  I  —  I  thought  you  did  not  understand  !  " 
muttered  Ana.  "  That  was  because  never  before 
have  I  seen  you  without  the  hedges  of  people  about 
you.  God  forgive  Rafael  Arteaga,  who  has  known 
and  ridden  away !" 

"  Hush  ! "  said  Raquel ;  "  our  outer  world  is  on  the 
other  side  of  the  aliso  tree.  That  is  our  plaza,  and 
this  the  inner  court.  Life  itself  has  the  same  divis 
ions:  all  the  world  may  cross  the  plaza,  but  the 
inner  court  of  one's  own  soul  is  the  sanctuary,  where 
only  one  may  kneel  beside  us ;  it  is  the  tabernacle  of 
the  heart,  and  no  word  of  Church  or  your  own  will 
can  give  to  anyone  the  key,  or — Santa  Maria!  — 
take  it  out  of  the  hands  to  which  it  is  given  by  divine 
right!" 

'*  Raquel,  beloved ! "  cried  Ana,  in  dismay,  "  you 

[297] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

are  not  laughing  at  me  now.  You  make  my  heart 
ache  with  your  words  and  your  smile, —  more  with  the 
smile,  I  think.  And  what  you  say  is  —  is  almost 
sacrilege.  No  Spanish  mother  teaches  her  daughter 
that  the  sacrament  of  the  Church  is  not,  above  all 
things,  binding.  Those  who  break  it  are  taught  the 
sin  of  it." 

"  But  I  had  no  Spanish  mother  to  teach  me ;  only 
a  priest  and  an  old  Indian  woman.  The  nuns  never 
spoke  of  the  worldly  ties,  they  were  so  sure  I  should 
never  know  them." 

"  But,  Raquelita,  you  rode  gladly  north  to  Rafael ; 
you  —  " 

"  Yes ;  I  was  more  a  devotee  than  I  ever  shall  be 
again,"  acknowledged  Raquel,  with  a  sigh.  "I  remem 
ber  the  elated,  half-dreamlike  way  in  which  I  rode 
over  those  mesas  to  meet  him.  I  was  riding  to  help 
to  guard  a  wonderful  soul  and  a  wonderful  life  for  the 
Church.  I  was  upheld  by  the  conviction  that  God 
desired  it.  If,  instead  of  asking  me  to  marry  a 
husband  for  the  good  of  a  soul,  they  had  asked  me  to 
ride  my  horse  into  the  sea  and  wait  for  the  rising  tide, 
and  given  as  convincing  a  churchly  reason,  I  should 
have  ridden  into  the  sea  and  waited,  I  suppose.  It  is 
bad  for  one  when  the  dreams  go,  and  the  clear  vision 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"But  Rafael  —  " 

"  Rafael,  beloved,  is  contented  with  the  life  of  the 
plaza.  He  will  always  be;  and — the  inner  court  is 
forever  this  side  of  the  aliso  tree.  Come  !  The  stars 
are  thick  now,  and  if  we  have  far  to  ride  —  " 

Dona  Ana  untied  the  mule  and  the  mustang. 

"  I  think  they  will  follow;  but  it  is  best,  perhaps,  to 
keep  a  rope  on  the  mustang.  I  will  lead  him,  and  I 
have  a  bell  I  will  tie  later  to  his  neck;  it  may  help  in 
the  dark  if  we  should  go  wide  of  the  trail." 

The  wilder  mood  of  Raquel  in  the  great  out-of- 
doors,  where  she  became  something  besides  the  girl  of 
the  cloisters,  had  a  sobering  effect  on  Ana  herself.  A 
girl  who  would  sacrifice  herself  through  a  temporary 
religious  fervor  was  not  one  to  look  with  favor  on  any 
sacrifice  or  risk  for  heretics.  Again  and  again  she 
thought  of  the  letter  to  the  Americano  on  which  that 
message  had  been  pencilled.  She  thought  also  of  the 
words  of  friendship  uttered  by  Padre  Libertad  for 
the  same  American,  at  the  San  Joaquin  ranch.  Was 
it  that  the  latter  was  dead,  and  thus  his  letters  accessi 
ble  ?  Or  was  there  a  chance  that  the  man  whom  Don 
Eduardo  and  his  guests  were  to  start  in  search  of  was 
held  either  by  a  friend  or  an  enemy  in  the  hills  they 
were  riding  to  ? 

She  had  felt  sure,  without  hearing  it  put  into  words, 

|>99] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

that  Raquel  rode  from  the  ranch  that  night  to  avoid 
Mrs.  Bryton.  What  other  reason  could  there  be? 
Therefore,  was  it  fair  to  lead  her  blindfold  to  meet 
another  of  that  heretic  family,  to  whom  she  would  not 
open  her  door  even  to  please  her  husband?  They 
had  mounted  their  horses  when  the  certainty  that  it 
was  not  fair  came  upon  Ana,  and  she  slipped  from  the 
saddle  and  stirred  up  the  sulking  embers  of  the  little 
fire  until  it  broke  into  a  blaze. 

"  Raquel,  it  is  no  use !  I  must  tell  you  before  we 
start.  The  man  I  go  to  see  is  the  friend  of  a  heretic 
whom  you  bar  out  from  your  knowledge.  The  mes 
sage  sent  me  is  written  on  a  letter  of  Bryton's.  You 
heard  them  say  Sefior  Bryton  cannot  be  found;  and 
there  is  a  chance  —  only  a  chance —  that  he  may  be  in 
the  mountain  where  we  are  going." 

Raquel  stared  at  her,  and  did  not  speak.  In  the 
flickering  light  Ana  could  see  that  her  eyes  grew 
large — with  dread,  or  anger,  or  what?  Even  her  lips 
grew  pale,  and  she  almost  seemed  to  sway  in  the  saddle. 

"  Raquelita  mia,  I  was  wrong,  I  know  it  was  wrong 
to  bring  you;  but  oh,  my  beloved — " 

"You  —  did  not  know  —  he  —  was  here?" 

"  I  did  not  think.  The  devil  put  mud  where  my 
brain  should  be!  It  is  only  when  we  are  on  the  road 
it  commences  to  trouble  me;  and  now  your  words — <• 

[300] 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

your —  Oh,  I  know  that  of  all  women  in  Cali 
fornia,  you  hate  the  heretics  most;  and  now  it  is  I 
who  —  " 

"  Tell  me  what  the  letter  says,"  interrupted  Raquel, 
who  now  sat  erect  in  the  saddle,  rigid  and  white. 
"You  said  your  friend  was  hurt  and  — " 

"  Some  one  is  hurt ;  I  do  not  know  who.  You  can 
read  the  letter  if  you  bend  down  here.  Who  knows  ? 
It  may  be  his  American  friend." 

"  Mother  mia !     It  may  be,  it  may  be ! " 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  Ana, 
looking  at  her,  thought  she  was  praying  for  strength 
to  remember  humanity  ahead  of  the  creeds.  At  last 
she  spoke. 

"  Anita  mia,  never  feel  so  badly  about  it.  We  did 
not  plan  this,  you  and  I,  but  it  happens  —  it  happens! 
There  is  only  one  straight  thing  to  do:  I  can  ride 
back  to  San  Juan  when  you  learn  the  truth.  If  it  is 
the  Americano,  the  word  shall  go  to  his  wife  quickly. 
I  need  not  see  the  man,  but  I  can  carry  a  message, 
and  I  will ;  God  helping  me  to  the  strength,  I  will  1 " 

"  His  wife  ?  Santa  Maria !  The  man  has  no  wife. 
Half  the  girls  of  Los  Angeles  county  try  to  marry 
him,  but  it  is  never  any  use." 

"Anita!" 

"  How  you   stare  at  me,  Raquel !    You  think   I 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

mean  some  other  American,  maybe.  No  ?  I  speak 
of  Don  Keith  Bryton.  You  hate  them  all  so ;  no 
one  ever  speaks  of  them  to  you  ;  but  he  is  not  bad. 
He  saved  your  Indian  woman  at  the  ranch  while  you 
slept.  You  did  not  know  it  all." 

"Stop,  and  let  me  think,"  said  Raquel,  imperatively. 
"Some  one  has  lied.  Who  is  the  fair  woman  with 
the  blue  eyes  —  the  Mrs.  Bryton  —  the  Dona  Angela 
he  drove  with  —  the  — " 

"  She  is  the  widow  of  his  half-brother;  that  is  all." 

"All?  Then  how — why  should  Teresa  say  this 
thing?  Yesterday  I  heard  her  say  that  Dona  Angela 
made  a  flirtation  with  Rafael  only  to  make  Senor 
Bryton  jealous.  I  heard  it,  though  she  did  not  know. 
Why  should  that  be,  if  it  is  only  his  brother's  wife  ? " 

"  Oh,  God  alone  knows  the  heart  of  a  woman, 
Raquel !  It  may  be  all  a  lie.  Our  people  do  not 
understand  the  gringo  women.  They  look  love  to  so 
many  men,  and  mean  it,  perhaps,  for  none.  But  it 
was  thought,  yes,  plainly  said,  when  she  first  came  to 
Los  Angeles,  that  Keith  Bryton  was  the  one  man  she 
wanted  to  marry.  But  that  is  all  over  now;  no  one 
thinks—" 

"  Teresa  thinks." 

"  Teresa  had  better  be  at  her  prayers  !  I  could  tell 
you  something  strange  of  Keith  Bryton, —  only  you 

[302] 


AN  INNER  COURT. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

are  not  interested  in  gringos, —  something  of  a  love 
of  his,  and  I  feel  sure  it  is  never  the  pretty  Dofia 
Angela." 

"  Tell  me,"  said  Raquel,  coldly. 

"  A  man  —  a  priest  —  learned  it  from  him  some 
way.  I  thought  the  Americanos  had  no  saints ;  but 
something  like  a  love  for  a  saint  keeps  Keith  Bryton 
from  caring  much  for  any  one  else.  It  is  as  if  a 
woman,  instead  of  a  wooden  saint,  should  be  in  one 
of  the  niches  of  the  old  altar-place,  and  he  said 
prayers  there.  Whoever  she  is,  she  seems  to  be  very 
far  above  him  —  like  the  star  he  cannot  reach." 

"The  men  who  cannot  reach  the  stars  content 
themselves  with  picking  flowers,  do  they  not?" 

"  Oh,  God  alone  knows  how  they  content  them 
selves  !  I  only  tell  you  this  thing  to  show  you  that 
Senor  Bryton  has  not  anywhere  in  the  land  a  woman  to 
go  to  him  if  he  were  dying  alone  in  the  hills ;  his  saint 
would  not  step  down  from  the  niche  of  the  altar-place." 

"Anita  mia,  you  forget,"  she  said,  in  a  strange, 
mocking  tone.  "If  Keith  Bryton  is  a  friend  of  yours, 
you  should  wish  him  better  fortune  than  to  kneel  at  a 
place  like  our  old  altar.  Do  you  forget  that  of  the 
eleven  niches  still  left  in  the  old  ruin,  only  one  holds 
a  saint, —  a  saint  where  no  one  openly  kneels, —  that 
of  the  Maria  Madalena?" 

[3°3] 


ag 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Raquel,  what  things  you  do  fancy  !  Now  that 
you  know  whom  you  may  have  to  meet,  will  you  ride 
with  me,  or  back  to  the  road  ? " 

"Back  to  the  plaza?"  asked  Dona  Raquel.  "Anita 
mia,  all  this  has  come  to  me  in  the  inner  court  of 
the  aliso  portal :  it  does  not  belong  to  the  outer  world; 
neither  do  we,  I  think,  to-night.  Whatever  the 
shadows  of  the  cafton  cover  for  us,  I  think,  we  must 
ride  upward  to  meet  them.  Your  friend's  saint,  the 
Madalena  of  the  niche,  will  watch  over  us.  When  we 
go  back  she  shall  have  candles  and  roses  —  red  ones, 
Anita!" 

Ana  was  voluble  in  her  delight,  and  rode  up  the 
valley  with  a  great  load  lifted  from  her  heart. 

But  the  witching  spell  of  the  aliso  portal  had  lost 
its  gay  charm  for  Raquel,  or  else  it  had  sent  her  another 
more  potent,  for  she  rode  in  silence  under  the  stars, 
without  gladness,  yet  so  steadily,  so  recklessly,  that 
Ana  more  than  once  had  to  complain  that  only  a  deer 
or  a  coyote  could  keep  ahead  of  her. 


Ella  No  Me  Ama. 

•^       El    -     la       vie 

r   -    te        la        co    -    pa       de      a-mar  - 

gu  -   ra.    . 

=-t    I          .1"        J   1    ff  '       K        •  • 

.    •    «           Go    •    ta,      go    -  ta  en     mi       po  •  bre       co  • 

4—-^  —  o 

ro  •  zon. 

CHAPTER  XVII 

tf     HAT  same  evening:  a 

gay  party 

from  the  south  rode  along  the 
sea  to  San  Juan  Capistrano. 
Dona  Maria  and  Don  Eduardo 
rode  in  a  carriage,  but  the 
Dona  Angela  had  received  rid 
ing  lessons  from  Rafael,  and 

disdained  now  the  lounging  ease  of  the  cushioned  seats. 
She  and  Rafael  galloped  far  ahead  at  times,  and  then 
loitered  idly  among  the  odorous  grasses  and  chaparral, 
and  watched  the  waves  roll  in,  and  said  the  gay,  fool 
ish  things  that  sometimes  mean  only  courtesy,  and 
sometimes  mean  the  ripples  of  thought  fringing  pools 
of  unsounded  depths.  There  was  little  doubt  of  the 
quality  of  Rafael's  thought.  Whatever  it  had  been 
in  the  commencement,  there  was  little  now  within 

[305] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

his  power  to  accomplish  which  he  would  not  have 
done  at  the  bidding  of  her  smiling  childish  lips. 

"If  we  had  a  boat  out  there  where  the  whitecaps 
are,  we  could  go  even  faster  than  the  horses,"  she  was 
saying.  "  I  always  wanted  a  boat ;  I  always  wanted  to 
live  near  the  ocean,  if  only  the  right  people  could 
be  with  me.  " 

"  You  shall  have  a  boat,  any  day  you  want  it,"  he 
said,  eagerly.  "  They  make  them  at  San  Pedro  ;  that 
is  not  far  to  send.  A  boat,  and  a  house  by  the  sea  ! 
Why  not  wish  for  a  more  difficult  thing?  Would  you 
like  that  bluff  above  the  river's  mouth?  Or  Dana's 
Point,  beyond  there?  You  could  watch  the  whales 
spouting  from  the  quay,  and  all  the  sea  and  valley 
could  be  yours  at  a  glance,  and  —  " 

"  And  a  fine  view,  also,  of  your  monastery  walls,  far, 
far  away,  Don  Rafael." 

"  I  should  never  be  far  away,  only  as  far  as  you  bid 
me  go." 

"Ah!  that  sounds  very  submissive,"  she  replied; 
"but  you  are  not  really  so,  not  really.  I  —  I  want 
to  say  to  you  that  my  cousin's  wife  reproves  me  for 
your  —  your  —  " 

Her  hesitation  was  very  pretty.  It  delighted  the 
man,  who  caught  her  hand  and  kissed  it. 

"My  —  my  —  you  can  find  no  word,  madama,  for 

[306] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

my  madness;  is  that  it?"  he  asked,  softly.  "  You  are 
right ;  there  are  no  words  ever  coined  to  cover  it.  I 
make  myself  a  carpet  for  your  feet,  mi  corazon!" 

"  I  don't  want  a  carpet  for  my  feet,  —  at  least  I 
think  I  do  not, "  she  said,  doubtfully,  "  not  in  the 
face  of  all  the  frowns  of  California;  and  we  perhaps 
go  to-day  where  we  see  many  frowns  from  my  cousin. 
She  says  she  may  not  visit  your  wife.  Why  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  she  does  not  like  a  home  where  there  are 
endless  prayers,"  he  said,  briefly ;  "  but,  such  as  it  is, 
it  is  for  you,  madama.  You  would  light  up  even  the 
shadows  there.  As  for  the  Dona  Maria,  she  is  —  ah, 
well,  she  is  old,  and  forgets  many  things.  She  has 
had  her  own  romances,  and  they  should  teach  her 
charity !  The  plans  she  makes  in  San  Diego  and  on  the 
road  are  all  right  for  those  places,  but  when  we  reach 
San  Juan  you  all  go  to  my  home.  I  sent  word  ahead." 

"  Your  wife  expects  us  to-night  ? " 

"  She  does  not  know  what  night,  or  what  day,  but 
she  will  expect  you." 

"  She  does  not  care  at  all  for  people,  does  she  ? " 
and  Angela's  eyes  were  turned  from  him  to  the  sea. 
"All  this  wonderful  principality  of  a  place,  and  a 
home  like  a  ruined  castle,  and  the  boxes  of  jewels  they 
say  she  never  looks  at !  She  must  be  a  marvellous 
woman,  —  the  Dona  Raquel  Arteaga.  I  shall  feel  a 

[SO?] 


<£H*^ 

i5K? 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

little  afraid,  I  think,  of  the  magnificence  she  dis 
dains." 

"  A  finer  castle  will  go  up  on  those  bluffs  when  you 
say  the  word,  madama  mia  ;  and  the  jewels  —  one  can 
always  find  more  pearls  in  the  sea !  " 

"  How  often  shall  I  have  to  tell  you  that  you  must 
not  make  those  foolish  promises  to  me  ?  You,  a 
married  man  ! " 

"  Just  so  often  as  you  make  me  forget  the  marriage 
—  and  that — " 

"Adam!  "  she  laughed.  "Of  course  it  is  to  be  the 
woman's  fault,  — f  She  tempted  me  ! ' : 

She  sprang  to  her  feet  and  ran  to  her  horse  as  the 
carriage  came  in  sight  over  the  mesa.  He  was  by  her 
side  in  an  instant. 

"  And  that,  madama,  is  every  time  I  hear  your  voice, 
or  look  in  your  eyes,  or  feel  the  touch  of  your  hand ! 
Ah,  beloved  ! " 

"  If  you  kiss  me,  Don  Rafael,  remember  I  cannot  go 
to  the  house  of  your  wife  !  " 

He  released  her  with  a  groan,  and  stared  at  her  as 
she  leaned  panting  against  her  horse. 

"You  put  a  man  in  purgatory,  madama,"  he 
said,  between  shut  teeth.  "  But  it  must  end  —  only 
Christ  knows  how !  It  must  end  one  of  these 
days." 

DOS] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

He  lifted  her  to  the  saddle  and  kept  his  arms  about 
her,  looking  up  into  her  face. 

"Was  that  about  the  boat  all  a  jest?  Once  before 
you  spoke  of  a  boat  —  and  us  two.  Perhaps  it  was 
only  your  woman's  way  to  torture  a  man  by  helping 
him  to  think  of  that  sort  of  heaven  !  But,  after  all, 
what  is  all  this  life  here  to  you  ?  You  care  nothing 
for  the  people  ;  you  will  go  away  somewhere,  some  day, 
and  no  one  will  ever  hear  of  you  again.  What  better 
way,  after  all,  than  the  boat?  It  leaves  no  tracks; 
there  would  be  all  the  world  before  us." 

"Hush!"  she  said,  with  a  little  smile.  "Who 
is  now  the  tempter?  You  are  quite  mad,  Don 
Rafael." 

"God!"  he  muttered.  "If  I  could  only  have  the 
happiness  of  knowing  it  was  a  temptation  to  you!" 

She  smiled  again,  and  touched  her  horse  with  the 
quirt;  and  though  he  caught  his  horse  and  mounted 
quickly,  she  was  a  considerable  distance  ahead  of  him, 
and  perversely  insisted  on  keeping  a  wide  space  be 
tween  them,  or  else  lagging  beside  the  carriage  for 
conversation  with  Dona  Maria,  whom  Rafael  knew 
she  loved  little. 

For  the  rest  of  the  ride  there  was  no  chance  of  a 
word  alone  with  her.  Only  as  they  turned  from  the 
beach  to  the  river  valley  she  checked  her  horse  for  an 

[309] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

instant,  and  with  a  little  flash  of  a  glance  toward  him, 
she  flung  a  kiss  from  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  the 
bluffs  above  San  Juan  River. 

"  Adios,  O  castle  of  the  air  in  which  Love  might 
have  lived !  Adios,  O  boat  of  beautiful  dreams,  for 
which  there  is  no  harbor !  Don  Rafael,  you  sing  so 
well  —  could  you  not  put  the  castle  and  the  boat  in  a 
Spanish  song !  It  would  sound  pretty  in  a  love-song, 
and  it  is  much  too  romantic  for  every-day  life;  for, 
after  all,  there  is  no  harbor  here." 

He  devoured  her  with  sombre  eyes  of  desire,  and  a 
glint  of  rage  showing  through  their  ardent  depths. 

"There  will  be  a  harbor,  madama  mia,"  he  muttered. 
"  By  the  God  and  all  the  saints,  there  will  be  a  harbor 
here  on  the  San  Juan  shore,  and  there  will  be  an  em- 
barcodera!  And  the  boat  will  —  will  not  be  a  boat  in 
a  song  or  a  dream,  madama  mia!  I  swear  it,  I  swear 
it,  I  swear  it ! " 

He  dug  his  spurs  viciously  into  his  mount  to 
emphasize  the  words,  and  the  animal  reared  and 
plunged,  and  gave  him  a  chance  to  vent  his  feelings 
somewhat,  while  the  Dona  Angela  tried  to  laugh,  and 
failed.  A  passion  like  that  was  a  very  masterful  force, 
and  there  had  been  times  when  she  dared  not  treat  it 


as  a 


jest. 


The   shrewd,    red-faced    ranchman,    riding   in    the 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

carriage  beside  his  swarthy  wife,  noted  the  little  panto 
mime  and  nodded  to  Dofla  Maria. 

"It  is  as  you  say,  dear.  It  is  better  that  Don 
Rafael  be  with  his  own  wife.  If  anything  should 
happen  —  " 

"If  one  thing  should  happen,  we  should  be 
blamed ;  even  the  bishop  might  blame  us,"  said  Dofla 
Maria,  fretfully.  "  She  could  marry  with  other  men  : 
what  white  devil  in  her  turns  her  to  that  mad  Rafael  ? 
The  Arteaga  men  always  have  their  own  way.  She 
should  be  married." 

Her  husband  grunted  assent,  and  regarded  the  fair 
figure  of  his  kinswoman  riding  sedately  along  the 
green.  She  was  such  a  fragile,  childlike  creature, 
he  thought  of  her  as  a  little  yellow  canary,  pretty  to 
see  around  the  home  after  the  many  years  lived 
among  the  dark  people ;  but  he  never  was  certain  in 
the  least  that  he  knew  her,  and  he  was  beginning  to 
consider  some  arrangement  by  which,  for  the  good  of 
the  doll-like  child  asleep  on  the  carriage  cushions,  he 
could  suggest  that  she  return  to  the  land  of  the 
Briton  and  abide  there —  with,  of  course,  a  comfortable 
little  sum  for  maintenance.  Don  Eduardo  was  too 
much  of  a  politician  not  to  see  the  wisdom  of  buying 
off  embarrassing  friends ;  the  Dona  Angela  in  her 
amusements  might  prove  not  only  embarrassing,  but 


>TwJ  \^f  V^  Vi/l* 

«II 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

dangerous.  He  had  plans  concerning  certain  Arteaga 
holdings,  and  could  not  have  even  a  charming  woman 
enter  into  his  scheme  of  things,  if  she  suggested 
discord.  And  watching  Rafael  Arteaga's  face  and  the 
reckless  passion  in  it,  Don  Eduardo  decided  that  his 
fair  countrywoman  not  only  suggested  discord,  she 
was  a  living,  breathing,  alluring  promise  of  it! 

A  sunset  in  San  Juan  is  truly  worth  crossing  either 
a  continent  or  an  ocean  to  witness,  when  the  ranges 
toward  La  Paz  are  purple  where  the  sage-brush  is,  and 
rose-color  where  the  rains  have  washed  the  steep 
places  to  the  clay,  and  over  all  of  mesa  and  mountain 
the  soft  glory  of  golden  haze.  All  that  radiance 
touched  the  land  and  sea  as  the  carriage  of  Don 
Eduardo,  preceded  by  Rafael  and  Dona  Angela,  and 
followed  by  Fernando  and  Juanita,  who  had  been  a 
guest  of  Dona  Maria,  and  back  of  all  the  rest  the 
Indian  servants  and  the  nurse  for  the  child  on  the 
carriage  cushion.  Amid  the  shrill  calls  of  greeting, 
and  gay  exchange  of  words  and  laughter,  the  cavalcade 
passed  the  Casa  Grande  of  Don  Juan  Alvara,  and 
drew  up  before  the  portal  of  the  great  white  Mission. 
Rafael  lifted  Angela  Bryton  from  the  saddle  first  of 
all,  and  then  with  his  own  hand  opened  the  door  of  the 
carriage  for  Dona  Maria. 

"  My  house  is  your  own,  sefiora,"  he  said,  with  the 


Yen-  go       a      tu     ven  -  tan  -  a        para  decirte  ml      a-more ! 


SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

debonair  grace  so  charmingly  his  own.  "  I  claim  the 
privilege  of  carrying  the  child  through  the  door  myself. 
Dona  Raquel  will  be  here  on  the  instant,  and  —  " 

The  padre,  pipe  in  mouth,  had  been  watching  the 
arrival  from  his  own  door,  but  he  drew  nearer,  and 
smiled  grimly  at  Dona  Maria  as  he  interrupted 
the  young  man. 

"  Not  quite  on  the  instant,  Don  Rafael,"  he 
remarked.  "  The  Dona  Raquel  is  well  on  her  way  to 
San  Joaquin  ranch  with  Dona  Ana  Mendez.  They 
rode  good  horses,  and  they  started  this  evening,  a  few 
minutes  before  my  own  return." 

The  child  in  Rafael's  arms  uttered  a  little  cry.  He 
had  suddenly  gripped  her  very  tightly  indeed,  and  a 
strange  Spanish  oath  broke  from  his  lips.  The  priest 
smiled,  and  the  florid  face  of  Don  Eduardo  flushed 
angrily. 

"  You  —  you  sent  Victorio  Lopez  —  "  he  began, 
but  Rafael  gave  him  one  silencing  look,  and  stepped 
forward,  offering  his  hand  to  Dofta  Maria. 

"  Will  you  honor  my  house  by  accepting  it  dur 
ing  your  stay,  seftora?"  he  asked,  smilingly.  "My 
wife  has  not  received  the  message  that  you  would 
arrive  this  week.  Sickness  at  the  ranch,  or  some 
accident,  has  no  doubt  called  the  Dofta  Ana  there, 
and  Raquel  would  not  let  her  go  alone.  But  our 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

house  and  my  service  are  at  your  feet.  Will  you 
enter?" 

There  was  not  a  moment's  hesitation  on  the  part 
of  Dona  Maria.  Let  her  English  husband  feel  as  he 
might,  she  meant  to  enter  the  doors  where  only  the 
most  exclusive  had  been  entertained,  since  the  day  of 
the  new  chatelaine  had  dawned.  Raquel  Estevan  de 
Arteaga  was  too  well  bred  to  make  a  scene  when  she 
returned  and  found  them  there,  and  Dona  Maria  had 
too  much  of  the  blood  of  Mexican  gamblers  in  her 
veins  not  to  be  willing  to  take  all  chances  when 
she  wanted  a  thing  very  much. 

As  to  the  fact  that  her  host  and  her  charmingly 
troublesome  guest  would  be  thrown  together  even 
more  than  in  the  south,  it  did  not  trouble  her  in  the 
least.  Even  the  bishop  could  not  blame  her  for  what 
occurred  in  the  house  of  Raquel  Arteaga!  Let  that 
lady  stay  at  home  and  guard  her  own  husband.  And 
if  she  failed,  —  well,  it  might  be  well  to  have  some  of 
that  cold,  Indian-like  pride  of  hers  lowered. 

The  Dona  Angela  said  nothing,  only  smiled  a  little, 
and  pretended  to  understand  none  of  the  Spanish 
spoken,  but  the  padre,  watching  her  wide  childish 
blue  eyes,  and  her  rosebud  of  a  mouth,  noticed  also 
the  one  quick  birdlike  glance  she  flung  toward  Rafael, 
and  felt,  like  Dona  Maria,  that  the  stubborn  pride  of 

D'4] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


Arteaga 


be 


swimming 


lowered  a  little.  She 
he  blue  above  all 
their  heads,  but  this  petite,  golden-headed  ladybird 
would  sip  more  of  honey  from  the  blossoms  of  life, 
and  touch  more  closely  an  Arteaga ! 

And  when,  after  the  very  gay  supper  in  the  old 
refectory,  Rafael  brought  a  mantilla  for  Dona  Angela, 
that  its  lacy  film  might  protect  her  from  the  soft  air  of 
the  starlight,  the  padre  poured  an  extra  glass  of  wine 
for  the  Dona  Maria,  the  Don  Eduardo,  and  himself, 
and  held  them  in  discussion.  Fernando  and  Juanita 
and  the  other  young  people  could  go  along  and  show 
the  Doiia  Angela  how  beautiful  were  the  arches  and 
corridors  after  the  sun  was  gone,  but  they,  the  older 
people,  were  content  with  the  shelter  of  adobe  walls 
after  the  night  fell. 

So  they  wandered  forth,  Fernando  with  a  guitar, 
that  the  end  of  a  perfect  day  should  be  celebrated  in 
love-songs ;  and  as  he  protested  that  they  sounded 
better  at  a  distance,  he  and  Juanita  strayed  off  into 
the  night. 

Dona  Angela  and  Don  Rafael,  from  a  throne  of 
sculptured  stars  and  circles,  suns  and  crescents, —  all 
the  Aztec  symbols  of  light, — listened  to  the  passion 
expressed  in  "El  Tormento  de  Amor"  floating 
down  to  them  from  the  tiled  roof  of  the  corridors, 

D'5] 


l&fl 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  later,  when  the  doors  were  closed  on  the  girls  for 
the  night,  those  two  still  listened  together  to  the 
musical  cadence  of  "  Vengo  a  tu  Ventana"  sung  under 
barred  windows,  and  to  other  harmonies  never  written 
in  music,  but  known  as  a  compelling  power  to  the 
tempestuous  heart  of  the  Mexican.  Under  the  stars 
of  that  night,  the  butterfly  was  made  to  feel  that  the 
beautiful  tiger  she  had  at  first  paraded  as  a  trophy 
was  not  to  be  laughed  at, —  never  any  more!  And 
even  when  the  dawn  broke,  she  lay  wide-eyed  behind 
the  iron  bars  of  her  window,  wordless  and  fright 
ened, —  a  magician  who  had  raised  a  spirit  stronger 
than  her  power  to  subdue.  What  a  trifle  it  had  been 
at  first, — a  mere  flirtation  for  the  sake  of  his  handsome 
eyes,  and  now — 

She  told  herself  over  and  over  that  it  was  Keith 
Bryton's  fault,  and  that  wooden  Mexican  woman's 
fault.  Why  had  she  barred  her  out  and  raised  the 
aggressive  spirit  in  her?  It  was  not  in  the  beginning 
that  she  really  meant  to  take  her  husband.  And  why 
should  Keith  betray  his  indifference  in  the  way  he 
did?  It  was  so  easy  to  show  him  that  other  men  were 
not  indifferent.  And  oh,  the  awful  dismal  tragedy  of 
it!  To  think  that  by  such  a  little,  little  chance  she 
had  missed  being  legitimate  queen  over  this  most 
royal  domain! 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

But  that  other  woman,  the  Mexican,  would  hold  it 
all,  always!  Another  woman  might  win  Rafael's  smile 
and  his  love-songs,  but  the  acres,  the  herds,  the  coin, 
and  the  jewels  (he  had  allowed  Dona  Maria  to  show 
the  latter  to  her  guests  that  evening),  all  those  things 
would  be  held  always  in  the  slender  strong  hand  of 
Raquel  Arteaga —  Raquel  Arteaga,  who  stood  guard 
over  even  his  soul,  lest  the  heretics  — 

Then  she  smiled  a  little  to  herself,  an  involuntary 
smile  of  triumph.  Had  he  not  said  in  the  dusk  of 
the  corridor  last  night  that  his  soul  was  at  her  feet? 
With  that  battle  won  from  the  intolerant  Mexican 
girl,  were  the  jewels  and  the  coin  out  of  reach?  Had 
he  not  said  a  boat  left  no  track  on  the  ocean, — the 
boat  he  had  sworn  to  find  a  harbor  for, —  sworn  to? 

Of  course  it  was  only  a  fleeting  fancy,  but  it  drifted 
across  her  brain  as  a  sort  of  solace  for  her  fretful, 
feverish  rebellings  against  the  uneven  division  of 
things,  and  it  served  its  purpose,  for  she  was  at  last 
lulled  into  slumber  by  the  dream,  though  of  course 
it  was  only  a  dream. 

But  dreams,  when  dreamed  by  two,  suggest  such 
alluring  possibilities  1 


[3'7] 


Aft  Corazon  de  Fuego 


jer !  Mu  -  jer !      Mi    cor  -  a  •  zon  de     fue  -  go,        Te      a- 


re    con    de  -  li  -  ro  y    con    ter  -  nu  -   ra,       For  -  que  e-res 


la      an  -  gel   -   i  -  cal      crla  -  tu    -    ra,       Co  -  mo  los 


res      que      a  -   do  -  ran 


no  me  im-por-ta    la     ex  -  is  -  ten  -  cia       El    mun-do 


do       y     sus    men  -  ti  -  das  glo  -  rias.     Le  -  jos      de 


la     vi  -  da    es       i  -  lus  -  oria          For  -  que  tu  e-res  mi 


da.    .      Tue-rcs    mia -ma     -     da,    Tue-res    mi      Dies'. 


CHAPTER   XVII 


T  was  two  days  later,  before  the 
sun  was  high,  that  Raquel  Ar- 
teaga  rode  into  the  plaza,  and, 
slipping  from  her  horse,  walked 
directly  into  the  little  private 
chapel  and  closed  the  door. 
From  the  other  wing  of  the  cor 
ridor  Dona  Maria  and  Dona  Angela  saw  her,  and  ex 
changed  startled  glances.  Their  hostess  had  arrived, 
and  had  not  even  cast  her  eyes  in  their  direction. 
They  were  both  relieved  when  Rafael  and  Senor 
Downing  emerged  from  the  portal  of  the  patio. 

"Ah,  she  has  arrived — my  wife,"  remarked  Rafael 
as  he  noticed  her  saddle-horse  nibbling  at  the  gera 
niums.  "I  sent  an  Indian  messenger  this  morning. 
He  has  been  quick;  and,  Santa  Maria!  so  has  she. 
Look  at  the  horse ! " 

The  animal  was  dripping,  and  as  an  Indian  boy  re 
moved  the  saddle  the  water  ran  down  his  sides  and 
made  little  pools  in  the  dust. 

[319] 


&  fS 


I 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"That  will  do  him  good,"  said  Rafael.  " Rub  him 
well,  and  he  will  look  like  black  satin.  And  the 
Dona  Raquel  is  —  " 

"Your  wife  went  to  her  own  chapel;  she  saw  no 
one,"  observed  Dona  Maria.  "I  should  go  in,  but  if 
she  is  at  prayers —  " 

If  she  had  been,  her  prayers  were  ended,  for  as  they 
spoke  she  opened  the  door  and  came  out  on  the  cor 
ridor.  She  was  more  pale  than  Rafael  had  ever  seen 
her,  and  without  greeting  to  anyone,  she  spoke. 

"  Rafael,  two  men  have  been  hurt  in  the  mountain, 
a  priest  and — the  American  who  was  missing  from  the 
vigilantes.  I  think —  I  understand  that  he  saved  the 
life  of  the  padre — and  both  were  hurt,  and  —  they  are 
bringing  him  here." 

"The  American?     You  mean  Keith  Bryton?" 

"Yes,  I  mean  Keith  Bryton,"  she  said,  steadily. 
"  I  rode  ahead.  Ana  is  coming  with  them ;  she  thinks 
he  is  very  ill  —  and  the  padre  also  was  hurt  —  and — " 

"Keith!"  cried  Dona  Angela,  sharply.  "He  is 
hurt — and  coming  here  —  here?" 

"There  was  no  place  else  to  send  them,"  said 
Raquel,  quietly.  "  There  has  always  been  room  in  the 
Mission  for  the  sick  or  wounded — and  in  this  case — " 

"That  is  right,"  exclaimed  Rafael,  with  nervous 
approval;  "that  is  all  right.  Where  should  Sefior 

[320] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Bryton  go  but  where  his  friends  are?  This  is  his 
sister,  Senora  Bryton.  It  is  well  she  is  here;  sick  men 
need  their  own  women  folks  about  them.  Raquelita, 
thou  art  white  as  the  lilies  in  the  garden !  Get  you 
some  wine  while  I  see  to  beds  for  the  sick.  It  was 
lucky  you  and  Ana  chanced  to  meet  them.  When 
did  Tomas  reach  you  with  the  letter?" 

She  did  not  reply.  Dona  Maria  was  also  asking 
questions,  and  telling  her  the  Padre  Andros  had  gone 
again  to  San  Luis  Rey  for  a  week,  and  the  three 
women  entered  the  dining-room,  leaving  Rafael's 
question  unanswered.  He  supposed  that  Raquel 
and  Ana  had  ridden  south  at  his  bidding,  and  was 
elated  that  she  had  received  the  Dona  Maria  and  her 
guest  as  she  had  —  without  gladness,  of  course,  but 
without  signs  of  displeasure.  He  divined  there  was 
a  white  devil  of  rage  under  her  calm  exterior,  but  that 
made  no  difference  so  long  as  she  showed  no  outward 
sign  of  it.  Evidently  she  had  accepted  the  fact  that 
he  meant  to  be  master ;  after  that,  life  would  be  easier 
in  Capistrano.  He  had  always  been  a  bit  resentful  of 
Keith  Bryton's  attitude  toward  himself.  Never  since 
that  dictatorial  letter  to  San  Pedro  had  he  felt  easy 
with  him,  and  there  was  no  doubt  whatever  that  Bryton 
had  avoided  him  since  his  marriage.  But  he  forgot  all 
that  in  the  satisfaction  of  the  news  Raquel  brought. 

[321] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

With  Bryton  ill  in  the  house,  there  was  every  reason 
why  the  one  woman  of  his  family  should  remain  under 
the  same  roof  indefinitely.  It  would  mean  the  break 
ing  down  of  barriers  against  heretic  invaders,  and  so 
well  content  was  Rafael  over  all  this  that  he  meant  to 
nurse  Keith  Bryton  as  the  most  valuable  friend  the 
fates  could  send  him.  Elated  with  this  idea,  he  called 
Don  Eduardo,  and  together  they  rode  out  to  meet 
them,  and  at  sight  of  them  wondered  that  even 
Raquel's  cool  exterior  had  not  been  more  ruffled  at  the 
situation:  she  had  given  them  no  idea  of  what  to  expect. 

"  Your  wife,  in  the  cause  of  humanity,  will  allow 
dying  space  for  a  heretic,"  observed  Don  Eduardo, 
dryly,  "but  she  evidently  thinks  them  worth  little 
attention.  The  man  looks  worse  than  she  led  us  to 
think.  We  should  have  brought  Indies  and  a  litter 
to  meet  them." 

Keith  Bryton,  with  his  head  bound  up  so  as  to  be 
almost  unrecognizable,  was  tied  on  his  horse  and  sup 
ported  by  the  left  arm  of  a  bearded  priest  who  rode  on 
one  side;  while  Dona  Ana  rode  on  the  other,  white- 
faced  and  tremulous,  as  she  recognized  the  two  men 
approaching. 

"For  the  love  of  God,  be  cautious  —  cautious!  "  she 
whispered  to  the  priest.  And  the  latter  drew  the  hood 
of  his  habit  lower  over  his  brows,  to  shut  out  the  sun. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

"  Softly,  Anita  mia!  From  this  moment  I  am  under 
a  vow  of  silence.  This  heretic  and  I  have  come  out  of 
the  shadow  of  death  together,  he  with  a  broken  head 
and  I  with  a  broken  arm.  You  can  send  your  friends 
to  see  where  three  men  are  still  unburied  in  the 
Trabuco  hills.  I  ask  of  the  Mission  only  time  for 
silent  meditation  until  my  preserver,  here,  is  better  — 
or  dead.  I  leave  the  words  of  it  to  you.  From  the 
moment  help  comes  I  have  vowed  silence.  Come, 
come,  Anita,  girl.  When  we  have  blinded  a  woman 
like  Raquel  Arteaga  for  two  days  and  nights,  we  need 
fear  no  eyes  of  men." 

And  it  was  so.  The  condition  of  the  two  men  was 
warrant  of  Ana's  recital  that  three  refugees  of  Flores's 
bandits  had  assaulted  the  priest,  with  the  idea  that  he 
was  of  the  vigilantes.  When  the  Americano,  by  some 
chance,  had  taken  a  short  cut  across  the  ranges,  and, 
hearing  shots,  had  gone  to  the  rescue,  he  found  one 
man  with  a  broken  arm  keeping  his  enemies  at  a 
distance  with  one  of  their  own  guns.  He  had 
stumbled  on  their  camp  while  they  slept.  For  the 
rest,  Ana  asked  Rafael  to  send  some  one  to  bury 
the  three  bodies.  They  were  too  near  the  trail  to  be 
left  like  that,  and  would  frighten  horses  when  one 
rode  that  way. 

Of  the  padre,  who,  relieved  of   his   burden,  had 

[323] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF     RAFAEL 

quietly  fallen  in  the  rear,  Dona  Ana  told  that  he  was 
a  travelling  monk  from  Mexico,  who  had  been 
entertained  at  the  San  Joaquin  ranch,  and  had  assisted 
the  Don  Keith  to  quell  a  crazy  uprising  there.  He 
was  under  a  vow  of  silence  from  the  moment  God 
sent  help;  and  —  and  of  course  there  was  room  for 
him  at  the  Mission,  not  with  the  crusty  old  Padre 
Andros,  but  if  Rafael  and  Raquel  would  allow  him  a 
private  corner,  undisturbed!  He  did  not  appear  to 
be  the  sort  of  man  for  Padre  Andros's  game-cocks 
and  monte  games. 

Rafael,  glancing  at  the  sallow,  bearded  face  under 
the  monk's  hood,  decided  that  she  was  right.  The 
padre  looked  like  a  man  given  to  vigils  and  fasts,  one 
living  the  life  of  renunciation  such  as  one  heard  of 
from  the  older  records  of  the  valley,  before  the  secular 
priests  had  been  let  loose  upon  the  land  to  fatten, 
while  the  parish  drifted  from  faith. 

"  Padre  Andros  has  been  called  to  San  Luis  Rey ; 
it  will  be  a  week  until  he  returns.  This  man  —  what 
is  his  name?  Libert;  d  ?  That  is  very  Mexican. 
Well,  the  Mission  is  his ;  he  can  pray  where  he 
chooses.  God  send  he  prays  Don  Keith  well  again. 
Santa  Maria!  but  he  has  a  fever!  Does  he  know 


one 


Ana  shook  her  head.      He  certainly  did  not  know 
[3*4] 


Jjji«i! 

J*tv^  f..  —  ;  VS, 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

her,  and  he  did  not  know  the  padre,  and  she  felt  a 
hesitation  in  telling  him  that  the  only  one  whose  voice 
or  hand  quieted  the  occasional  ravings  of  the  American 
was  that  of  his  own  wife.  If  she  had  done  so,  Rafael 
would  have  only  thought  it  a  great  joke  on  Raquel, 
who  avoided  heretics.  All  the  hours  of  the  days  and 
nights  in  the  hills,  Raquel  Arteaga  had  moved  like  a 
woman  in  a  dream,  walking  alone  when  she  was  not 
praying  beside  Keith  Bryton's  couch  of  pine  boughs. 
While  Ana  slept  the  sleep  of  exhaustion  that  first 
night,  the  silent  priest  had  gone  again  and  again  to 
see  Bryton  and  hear  if  there  was  aught  to  do,  and 
each  time  that  girl  was  crouching  there,  white-faced  as 
a  spirit  in  the  light  of  the  waning  moon,  while  the 
man  on  the  couch  moaned  "  Espiritu  !  Dona  Espiritu 
mia!" 

That  was  the  one  moan  he  had  made  since  the 
fever  had  struck  him,  and  there  had  been  no  way  of 
quieting  him.  But  that  night,  when  the  moans  grew 
into  cries,  the  silent  priest  saw  the  girl  listen  until  she 
could  bear  it  no  longer,  and  then  she  went  closer  to 
him  and  knelt  there,  her  hands  clasped  tightly  behind 
her,  and  in  them  the  golden  beads  of  a  rosary  shone 
against  her  black  dress. 

"  I  am  here,  close  beside  you,"  she  said,  lowly, 
"  always  beside  you  in  spirit  —  always  !  " 

[325] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

"  Espiritu  mia!"  he  muttered,  and  then  with  a 
great  sigh  of  relief  sank  into  slumber. 

The  priest  watched  the  girl  to  see  what  manner  of 
woman  might  be  this  daughter  of  a  nun,  whose  father 
had  been  the  gay,  lawless,  debonair  Felipe  Estevan, 
of  whom  wild  stories  had  been  told  in  the  old  days. 
When  had  he  ever  resisted  a  love  appealing?  The 
man  watching  her  knew  the  girls  of  Mexican  Califor 
nia  too  well  to  doubt  what  the  result  would  be :  the 
lover  first,  and  the  rosary  and  the  prayers  afterwards. 

But  the  night  waned,  and  the  pale  moon,  facing  the 
morning  star,  saw  her  still  crouching  there  against 
the  tree  trunk.  Ana  thought  she  slept,  but  her 
husband's  enemy,  who  had  watched  her  through  the 
night,  knew  better.  He  drew  Ana  aside,  and  gave 
her  warning. 

"Tell  Felipe  Estevan's  daughter  nothing.  I  am 
the  priest;  that  is  all.  She  is  not  the  woman  to  think 
this  justified,"  and  he  touched  the  monk's  robe. 
"This  night  I  heard  her  prayers  when  she  thought 
no  one  listened;  and,  Anita,  girl,  forget  all  crazy 
things  I  said  about  Rafael's  wife  helping  me  to 
revenge." 

"You  said  nothing  about  Rafael's  wife,"  and  Ana 
faced  him  with  startled  eyes.  "You  said  —  what  was 
it  you  said  ?  Oh,  that  Keith  Bryton  should  help  you 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

—  Keith  Bryton,  and  his  love  for  a  woman  who  was  a 
saint." 

As  she  spoke,  the  full  meaning  of  his  words  burst 
upon  her,  and  she  uttered  a  low  cry  of  dismay. 

"  Barto  !     Holy  God !  — Earto  !  "  she  whispered. 

But  he  caught  her  wrist,  and  his  voice  had  a  note 
of  command  in  it. 

"  Silence !  She  may  hear  you.  Forget  the  fool 
things  I  said  there  at  the  San  Joaquin  ranch.  I 
thought  I  knew  something  of  Keith  Bryton,  but 
I  was  mistaken.  I  thought  I  knew  much  of  woman, 
but  one  girl  at  her  prayers  last  night  changed  all  that. 
We  will  nurse  him  well  again,  if  your  friends  do  not 
murder  me,  and  then  I  will  get  him  away.  Some  day 
when  you  and  I  have  left  all  this  behind  us,  I  may 
tell  you  what  I  thought  I  knew,  but  not  now." 

"But  Raquel— " 

"  Raquel  will  always  be  first  of  all  the  wife  of 
Rafael  Arteaga ;  after  that  she  may  show  kindness  to 
other  human  things,  even  the  heretics.  But  this  one 
heretic  we  will  take  the  care  of  off  her  hands  all  that 
we  can,  Anita.  She  is  not  the  girl  to  drag  into  a 
man's  schemes  of  revenge." 

"  I  think  she  bewitches  you  each  time  she  comes 
near  you,"  flashed  Ana,  resentfully.  "On  all  other 
things  you  talk  to  me  sense,  but  when  it  is  Raquel, 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAE 

my  one  friend,  you  talk  riddles  always,  and  you  make 
me  feel  as  if  I  were  walking  beside  her  in  the  dark  or 
blindfold.  What  is  it  you  mean  ?  That  Bryton 
thinks  of  her?  How  could  that  be,  when  they  have 
not  met  ?  She  thought  until  last  night  that  he  was 
married,  so  little  interest  in  him  has  she.  How  do 
you  get  such  crazy  things  in  your  head  ?  " 

"  That  is  true.  I  find  they  are  crazy  things ;  I 
confess  it  to  you,  and  ask  you  to  give  no  heed  to  my 
mistakes." 

"  It  was  a  mistake,  then,  that  he  cared  ?  "  persisted 
Ana.  "You  were  so  sure  —  ' 

"  It  was  another  woman,"  broke  in  the  priest, 
curtly.  "  Oh  yes,  there  was  a  woman ;  but  I  was  the 
fool  when  I  thought  I  knew  who  the  woman  was; 
that  is  all." 

"And  Raquel  is  not  —  " 

"  Raquel  Estevan  de  Arteaga  is  a  woman  men 
should  cross  themselves  when  they  mention,"  he  said, 
quietly.  "  She  has  a  strength  in  her  that  is  of  God  or 
the  devil ;  she  brings  it  from  her  Indian  hills  of 
Mexico,  and  I  for  one  will  be  on  the  safe  side  and 
treat  it  with  respect." 

"  She  has  bewitched  you,  that  is  all,"  declared  Ana  ; 
but  the  man  in  the  priest's  robe  drew  her  behind  a 
giant  aliso  tree  and  kissed  her  on  the  mouth. 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  Perhaps  so,"  he  agreed ;  "  but,  my  Anita,  it  is 
only  enough  to  make  me  pity  the  man  she  would 
bewitch  in  a  different  way.  God !  If  he  knew  that 
she  cared  like  that,  his  life  would  be  a  hell." 

"  Why  not  a  heaven  ? "  asked  Ana,  turning  to  the 
care  of  the  breakfast.  "Raquel  spoke  beautifully  of 
a  love  like  that  last  night,  —  a  love  in  the  inner  court 
of  life,  in  sanctuary,  where  only  one  other  soul  could 
kneel  beside  one  ;  it  was  a  love  spiritual  only." 

"Only!"  said  the  man,  glancing  toward  the  girlish 
figure  in  the  serape  curled  against  the  white  bark  of 
the  tree.  "  Only!  Anita,  girl,  let  us  get  the  breakfast 
and  leave  love  to  people  who  have  not  a  price  set 
against  their  heads.  As  for  that  love  of  the  inner 
court  of  life,  the  sanctuary,  Raquel  still  dreams  the 
dreams  of  a  nun.  Men  and  women  of  California  are 
of  flesh  and  blood,  and  they  do  not  love  in  that  way." 


[329] 


CHAPTER   XIX 


HREE  days  later,  Keith  Bryton 
opened  his  eyes  within  the  white 
walls  of  a  little  room  in  the  Mis 
sion.  The  wooden  shutters  of 
the  barred  window  were  open, 
and  all  was  still.  A  meadow- 
lark  called  somewhere  without, 
and  he  could  hear  down  the  valley  the  beat  of  the  surf 
against  the  cliffs.  A  bearded  priest  sat  in  the  window 
reading  a  book,  and  a  woman  coming  from  the  dining- 
room  through  the  quaint  old  Moorish  doorway  stop 
ped  suddenly  with  a  quick-caught  breath  of  fear  as 
his  eyes  opened  at  the  rustle  of  her  dress,  and  he 
smiled  at  her  with  a  great  sigh  of  relief. 

"Dofia  Espiritu!"  he  murmured.  "I  knew  you 
would  come  if  I  waited.  Such  a  bad  dream  has  been 
with  me !  I  thought  I  was  back  in  California,  and 

[330] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

you —  ah  !  there  were  higher  barriers  around  you  than 
the  convent  walls,  and — " 

Dofia  Raquel  stood  motionless,  with  the  little 
earthen  olla  of  spring  water  in  her  two  hands.  Her 
face  grew  white,  and  she  glanced  at  the  man  in  the 
window-seat.  He  raised  a  finger  of  warning  to  his 
lips,  and  arose  and  came  forward. 

"You  must  not  talk,  Don  Keith,"  he  said,  quietly. 
"One  cup  of  water,  since  the  lady  brings  it  to  you, 
and  then  to  sleep  again.  Sleep  is  best." 

"  You  were  of  the  dream,  too,"  muttered  Bryton, 
fretfully,  "the  bad  dream.  Espiritu  mia!  tell  me  it  is 
not  true.  I  cannot  think;  my  head  —  " 

"  Tell  him,  Dona  Espiritu,"  said  the  man  with  the 
book.  Then  he  gave  her  a  glance  of  v/arning  and 
touched  his  temple  significantly.  She  crossed  the 
room  and  placed  the  water  beside  him. 

"  What  shall  I  tell  you,  Don  Keith  ? "  she  asked, 
softly.  "  I  am  sorry  you  have  been  so  ill  and  the  bad 
dreams  have  come.  This  is  Padre  Libertad ;  he  has 
nursed  you  very  well.  We  must  all  obey  him  and  let 
you  sleep." 

"  But  not  to  dream  again,"  he  protested.  "  Be 
kind,  as  you  were  in  the  hills  of  the  temple,  —  give  me 
your  hand  again, —  then  I  will  sleep  without  the  heJl 
of  dreams." 


ft 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

At  the  command  of  the  padre,  she  obeyed,  and  he 
took  her  one  hand  in  both  of  his  and  drew  it  across 
his  lips.  A  shudder  passed  over  her  at  his  touch, 
and  she  rested  her  other  hand  against  the  whitewashed 
wall  for  support. 

"  Courage,  my  daughter,"  said  the  man  with  the 
book,  gently ;  and  the  man  on  the  bed  looked  at  him 
and  smiled. 

"  Courage  ?  "  he  said.  "  You  should  have  seen  her 
when  she  faced  that  mob  of  Indians  and  saved  us. 
We  had  not  meant  to  spy  on  their  ceremonies,  and 
we  paid  dearly  for  getting  lost  in  the  wilderness. 
Still,  it  was  worth  it,  Dona  mia !  It  was  worth  going 
through  it  all,  even  the  hell  of  dreams,  to  find  you 
again  like  this,  and  your  hand  in  mine." 

She  did  not  speak,  only  turned  imploring  eyes  on 
the  padre. 

"You  need  not  mind  him,"  continued  Bryton.  "  I 
like  him  better  than  the  old  padre,  and  he  shall  marry 
us  when  I  come  back.  Now  I  can  go  to  sleep." 

He  held  her  hand  in  his,  and  when  she  tried  to  draw 
it  away,  he  smiled  with  closed  eyes,  and  whispered, 
"You  remember  how  we  watched  all  the  stars  cross 
the  sky  ?  And  then  the  morning  star,  the  star  of  the 
Holy  Spirit,  that  was  yours,  Dona  mia ;  and  then  — 
then  —  you  remember  all — all  of  our  one  night?" 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"All  of  it  — always!" 

He  smiled  with  his  eyes  still  closed,  and  released 
her  hand,  and  did  not  see  her  as  she  swayed  toward 
the  door  and  was  caught  in  the  strong  arms  of  the 
man  she  called  Padre  Libertad.  When  she  knew 
where  she  was  again,  she  found  her  face  and  hair  wet 
with  cold  water,  and  all  the  women  about  with  cordials 
and  cures. 

"It  is  a  fever;  she  will  get  it  next,"  prophesied 
Dona  Maria.  "  A  woman  who  neither  eats  nor  sleeps 
gets  ready  for  the  graveyard." 

But  Raquel  waved  aside  all  their  cures  and  sent  for 
Padre  Libertad. 

"  You  broke  your  vow  of  silence  there  just  now  for 
him,"  she  said, abruptly.  "Break  it  now  for  me.  You 
know?" 

"  God  help  you,  Raquel  Estevan !  I  know.  No  one 
else  ever  shall,  and  whatever  you  want  done  shall  be 
done." 

"  God  help  me,  indeed  ! "  Raquel  moaned.  "  To 
the  soul  of  Rafael  I  am  bound  all  the  days  of  my  life. 
I  want  nothing  done.  I  dare  want  nothing." 

Raquel  went  no  more  into  the  room  where  Keith 
Bryton  awoke  to  a  hold  on  life  and  reason, —  that  was  the 
one  thing  perplexing  to  the  man  in  the  priest's  gown ; 

[333] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  not  even  Ana  was  allowed  to  hear  the  constant 
demands  for  Dona  Espiritu,  or  the  girl  of  the  temple, 
or  the  lady  who  had  led  him  out  of  the  wilderness 
under  the  light  of  the  morning  star  !  All  those  things 
would  have  seemed  like  maddest  ravings  to  any  but 
Padre  Libertad,  who  carefully  excluded  all  visitors 
from  the  room,  despite  the  protests  of  Dona  Angelas 
who  claimed  the  privilege  of  relationship,  —  a  claim 
denied  by  a  shake  of  the  head  of  the  silent,  book- 
reading  padre. 

Raquel  moved  almost  as  silently  about  the  corridors 
of  the  Mission,  serene,  quiet,  and  busy,  always  busy 
with  the  entertainment  of  her  numerous  guests.  The 
people  of  the  country  rode  on  any  pretext  to  San  Juan 
in  those  days,  to  meet  the  Downings  and  talk  by  the 
hour  in  the  cool  shadows  of  the  patio  concerning  the 
tragedies  of  the  bandits.  The  beautiful  old  Mission 
town  had  gained  a  new  sort  of  fame  through  them. 

Rafael  arranged  barbecues  and  picnics  to  the  canons, 
where  the  wild-rose  thickets  were  yet  odorous  with 
bloom.  Even  a  dance  was  arranged  by  some  of  the 
gentlemen  in  the  old  wing  of  the  Mission,  called  the 
travellers'  room,  —  a  Spanish  dance  at  which  only 
those  wearing  the  old  Spanish  costumes  dared  keep 
time  to  the  music,  and  the  Mexican  serape  was  dis 
carded  for  the  velvet  cloak  or  cape  of  grander  days. 

[334] 


"AND — HE  WAS  AN  AATEAGA!" 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

The  younger  men  rode  fifty  miles  for  costumes. 
Don  Juan  Alvara,  who  still  wore  knee-breeches, 
stockings,  and  buckled  shoes,  had  promised  to  go  to 
bed  earlier  that  night  because  of  the  demand  on  his 
wardrobe.  Raquel  delved  in  old  chests  of  Dona 
Luisa  Arteaga's  belongings,  and  brought  out  treasures 
of  embroideries  and  brocades  enough  to  turn  the  heart 
of  Angela  Bryton  bitter  with  envy.  She  knew 
Raquel  would  look  a  barbaric  queen  in  the  jewelled 
bodices  where  topazes  formed  the  hearts  of  yellow 
roses,  or  real  pearl-embroidered  lilies,  and  in  laces  — 
laces  to  wrap  her  like  a  mummy,  leaving  only  those 
great  violet  eyes  of  hers  visible  to  gaze  in  that  serene 
haughty  way  at  one,  and  through  one ! 

But  once  having  been  forced  by  circumstances  to 
take  the  hand  of  a  guest  in  hers,  Raquel  Arteaga 
raised  no  material  barriers  to  hospitality. 

"  They  are  at  your  pleasure,  Senora  Bryton,"  she 
said,  graciously.  "  After  you  have  selected  what  you 
would  like,  Carmella  and  Juanita  may  care  for  some 
of  them.  The  white  brocade  of  the  lilies  would 
become  you.  There  is  a  white  mantilla  of  lace  to  go 
with  it,  and  pearls  —  plenty  of  pearls." 

Dona  Maria  and  Teresa  Arteaga  exchanged  glances. 
They  had  never  objected  to  the  favorites  of  their 
husbands, —  no  good  wife  did,  —  but  even  the  most 

[335] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

devoted  of  Mexican  wives  had  never  opened  her 
jewel-box  for  her  rival. 

However,  they  decided  in  confidence  that  Raquel 
had  appeared  strange  and  indifferent  since  the  day  of 
the  fainting  spell.  She  was  more  kind  and  gentle,  if 
anything,  to  Rafael  himself,  even  tender  in  little  cares 
for  his  comfort,  as  his  own  mother  might  have  been. 
But  beyond  the  tender,  conciliating,  half-maternal 
attitude  toward  her  husband,  she  walked  as  in  a  dream 
of  indifference  toward  the  rest  of  the  world.  Full  of 
care  as  a  hostess,  she  yet  spent  no  moment  alone  with 
any  guest  except  the  silent  padre,  who  paced  the 
corridors,  his  eyes  on  a  book,  and  always  on  guard  at 
the  door  of  the  American,  who  had  almost  given  his 
life  that  an  unknown  priest  might  live. 

Rafael  himself  did  not  understand  Raquel's  gentle, 
devoted  attitude.  Once,  as  he  smoked  in  the  corridor 
facing  the  sea  and  commented  aloud  on  the  charms 
of  a  pretty  girl  who  crossed  the  plaza,  some  man, 
standing  there,  took  up  the  subject  and  spoke  of  his 
wife  —  Rafael's —  and  the  lucky  fellow  he  was  to  get 
her,  —  that  girl  of  the  South  with  her  strange,  alluring 
beauty  not  to  be  defined,  but  so  surely  felt  by  all 
who  had  the  happiness  to  meet  her.  As  Rafael 
listened,  he,  for  a  moment,  felt  again  a  delight  in  the 
barbaric  sense  of  possession  of  her.  It  was  true;  she 

[336] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

was  of  strange  beauty,  and  he  knew  every  man  envied 
him.  The  thought  of  it  brought  back  the  remem 
brance  of  the  fitful  passion  she  had  aroused  in  him 
there  in  Mexico,  where  the  bars  of  the  convent  had 
made  more  keen  his  desire  for  victory.  Some  echo 
of  that  fitful  passion  sent  him  from  the  man  in  the 
plaza  to  the  door  of  her  room.  It  was  not  love; 
but  she  was  his,  and  —  he  was  an  Arteaga ! 

The  shadowy  room  was  lit  by  the  soft  glow  of 
candles  on  the  altar  of  the  Virgin.  She  had  knelt 
there  until  some  wave  of  feeling  swept  over  her, 
leaving  her  prostrate  at  the  feet  of  the  serene,  tender, 
changeless  Mother  of  Sorrows.  For  a  moment  he 
halted,  but  the  brandy  he  had  been  drinking  was 
of  the  best.  The  Dofta  Angela  had  gone  bathing 
with  the  others  on  the  beach,  while  he  had  been  kept 
in  the  town  by  some  business,  and  a  man  must  console 
himself.  He  remembered  that  he  had  won  this  girl, 
whom  others  found  beautiful,  from  one  altar  there  in 
the  South ;  it  gave  a  certain  zest  to  his  present  deter 
mination.  A  woman  could  pray  at  any  time;  but 
just  now  —  well,  she  should  remember  she  was  his  ! 

What  he  said  he  did  not  clearly  remember  after 
wards  ;  but  he  was  strong,  and  he  had  been  silent,  and 
she  was  gathered  in  his  arms  and  lifted  to  her  feet, 
and  he  was  seeking  her  lips  with  his,  when,  with  a  cry 

[337] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

that  was  terrible  in  its  smothered  rage,  she  wrenched 
herself  free  and  darted  to  the  table  where  the  jewel- 
box  lay  open,  and  on  the  top  of  strings  of  pearls 
shone  the  glittering  steel  of  a  dagger.  What  she  said 
to  him  turned  him,  sullen  and  cowed,  toward  the  door. 
But  there  she  stopped  him. 

"Your  child,  and  the  mother  of  it  there  in  the 
willows,  are  my  care,  Rafael  Arteaga,  as  they  would 
have  been  the  care  of  your  mother,  had  she  lived.  I 
have  sworn  to  that  dying  mother  to  live  beside  you, 
and  guard  you  from  what  harm  I  can,  but  if  you  still 
take  your  marriage  vows  to  the  willows,  you  put  aside 
the  sacrament  of  your  marriage  to  me.  Never  again, 
while  you  choose  to  live  like  that,  must  you  cross  to 
me  where  this  altar  is.  I  guard  your  soul  for  your 
mother,  but  by  the  Virgin,  and  by  this  cross  on  the 
dagger,  I  will  send  you  to  account  there  where  she  is,  if 
you  come  to  me  like  that  again !  I  give  my  life  to  keep 
my  vow ;  but  if  you  drive  me  to  it,  my  soul  may  yet 
have  to  pay  in  the  other  life  for  the  loss  of  your  own !" 

As  he  stumbled  out  of  the  door  he  met  the  Padre 
Libertad  pacing  the  corridor,  as  usual,  with  his  book. 
He  did  not  lift  his  eyes  or  speak,  and  Rafael  passed 
on  sullenly,  muttering  an  oath :  each  way  he  turned 
in  the  Mission  he  met  an  altar  or  a  priest! 

Ana,  coming  through  the  portal  of  the  inner  court, 

[338] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

met  him  there,  and  heard  the  oath,  and  was  filled  with 
fear  of  a  discovery  so  appalling  that  her  woman's  wit 
left  her,  and  she  blundered  and  caught  his  arm  and 
questioned. 

"But,  Rafael,  he  has  done  nothing.  That  he  was 
at  the  door  of  Raquel  is  not —  " 

"  Sure,  it  is  not,"  he  agreed,  scoffingly.  "  But  when 
a  man  has  a  wife  of  his  own,  —  even  Raquel  Estevan 
de  Arteaga,  —  he  does  not  want  a  black  gown  and  a 
monk's  cowl  forever  as  her  shadow." 

They  were  outside  the  window  of  Keith  Bryton, 
and  the  words  reached  the  ears  of  the  man  on  the  bed 
there,  and  brought  him  reeling  but  determined  to  his 
feet. 

It  was  the  first  word  reaching  him  by  which  he 
could  grasp  at  the  reality  of  the  life  about  him;  all 
the  vague  dreams  were  dashed  aside  by  that  name, 
"  Raquel  Estevan  de  Arteaga."  It  cleared  the  visions 
of  the  fever  his  nurse  had  feared  to  dispel  too  quickly, 
and  in  one  staggering  flash  he  saw  the  truth:  the 
"dream"  of  the  California  life  was  no  dream,  it  was 
the  real  life  to  be  met  and  fought  again.  Where  was 
he,  that  the  voice  of  Rafael  Arteaga  dared  ring  with 
such  imperious  directions?  He  reached  the  barred 
window  dizzily  and  leaned  his  head  against  the  high 
ledge.  The  world  whirled  about  him  for  a  moment, 

[339] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

and  when  it  stopped  and  stood  still,  he  again  heard 
the  voice  of  Rafael,  irritated  this  time  into  more 
intolerant  speech  by  some  eager  protest  of  Ana. 

"  Oh,  ho!  That  is  the  man,  is  it?  And  he  saved 
her  from  Juan  Flores  that  night?  That  is  news  — 
God  curse  him  !  " 

"  Rafael !"  and  the  woman's  voice  was  full  of  horror. 
"  You  are  crazy  with  brandy ;  you  do  not  know  how 
you  speak.  Go  to  your  bed  and  sleep.  That  man 
saved  your  name  and  your  wife  from  disgrace,  and 
you  have  only  curses  for  him  in  your  mouth!" 

"  Basta !  He  may  win  seven  heavens  for  aught  I 
care.  But,  name  of  God  !  sing  no  praises  of  him  for 
saving  Raquel  Estevan  for  me!  She  is  not  a  woman, 
Anita!  Never  a  woman  for  a  man  who  wants  a  wife. 
By  God,  I  think  she  is  the  devil  turned  saint;  and 
the  man  who  carries  her  to  the  hills  is  my  friend  and 
earns  a  herd  of  horses  ! " 

"  Santa  Maria !  You  are  mad  over  that  other 
woman,  Rafael  Arteaga.  Every  one  sees  it  but  Raquel  ; 
and  when  she  does  see  it  — " 

"  She  !  she  sees  nothing  but  her  saints  on  the  altar ! 
She  has  only  the  heart  of  a  nun  in  that  white  breast 
of  hers.  Don't  you  put  your  devil  of  a  tongue  in 
this  business,  Ana  Mendez,  or — " 

"You  are  drunk,  Rafael,"  said  Ana,  untouched  by 


[340] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

the  personal  remark.  "  You  are  drunk.  Go  to 
bed." 

No  other  words  came  to  the  ears  of  Keith  Bryton. 
He  heard  the  departing  steps,  and  the  rustle  of  Ana's 
silken  gown  on  the  tiling,  and  then  someway  he  found 
himself  back  in  the  bed,  with  all  the  cobwebs  cleared 
from  his  brain.  He  knew  where  he  was  now  —  in  a 
room  of  the  Mission,  where  he  had  not  dared  set  a 
foot  since  the  day  when  he  heard  her  vow  made  to 
the  dying  woman.  He  was  in  her  home,  then,  the 
home  of  her  husband.  And  that  silent  padre  who 
had  shielded  him  from  knowing  it — what  did  his 
devoted  guardianship  mean  ?  What  did  it  mean  that 
he  had  approved  that  once  she  had  come  there  and 
stood  by  the  bed  with  her  hands  in  his  ?  That  she 
had  listened  to  his  words,  and —  Or  was  that  also  a 
fancy  born  of  the  fever? 

But  when  the  silent  padre  came  in  and  closed  the 
door,  and  heard  the  direct  rapid  questions,  the  replies 
were  just  as  direct.  Padre  Libertad  observed  that 
the  shock  of  the  truth  had  come,  and  there  was  no 
reason  for  further  illusion.  The  American  was  weak, 
but  alert  to  all  the  padre  told  him  ;  and  he  told  him 
all  the  truth. 

"  So  you  see,  Senor  Bryton,  you  saved  my  life,  and 
there  is  a  good  price  set  against  it.  I  am  here  in  the 

[341] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAE 

home  of  my  cousin,  who  will  make  a  fiesta  of  the  day 
I  am  hung  or  shot.  You  know  it,  and  the  girl  I  love 
knows  it.  It  has  been  a  good  place  to  hide :  they  think 
me  in  Mexico.  I  start  there  to-night,  unless  you  —  " 

"  Wait :  to-morrow  I  can  perhaps  go  with  you. 
God !  To  think  I  have  been  helpless  here  in  his 
home ! " 

The  other  man  said  nothing,  only  watched  him 
with  the  dark  velvety  eyes  full  now  of  the  spirit 
of  comradeship. 

"  It  is  strange  it  should  be  you  I  trust,"  he  said, 
at  last.  "I  remember  days  when  I  planned  which 
way  I  would  have  you  killed  when  my  men  found 
you.  You  saved  the  government  their  horses  last 
year.  I  shot  at  you  once  as  you  rode  from  Santa 
Ana  ranch." 

"  Was  that  you  ?  "  observed  the  other.  "  Yes,  I 
remember."  Then,  after  another  silence,  he  asked 
with  careful  indifference : 

"Dofta  Raquel  Arteaga  —  she  was  in  here,  and  I 
said  things  I  —  well  —  you  heard  !  Does  she  know 
the  truth  about  you  ?  " 

"  Not  even  does  she  suspect.  No  one  here  has 
ever  seen  me  since  this  beard  is  over  my  face.  I  pass 
the  men  on  the  plaza  who  hunted  me  with  hounds 
and  guns  to  the  water's  edge  a  year  ago,  and  they  bow 

[342] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

their  heads  and  lower  their  voices  not  to  disturb  my 
devotions.  Madre  de  Dios !  it  has  been  great  sport, 
but  for  the  thought  of — of  a  woman  whose  heart 
has  been  shown  to  me  as  a  priest !  The  thing  I  have 
done  is  a  sacrilege,  and  Father  Andros  would  scorch 
me  well  for  it  —  but  I  would  rather  burn  than  have 
her  ever  know  the  truth  —  I  who  am  the  lover  of 
another  woman!" 

Keith  Bryton  reached  out  his  hand  to  the  outlaw, 
and  there  were  no  more  words  spoken  between  them 
of  the  matter. 

Later  Dofia  Angela  returned,  and  hearing  from 
Ana  that  Bryton  was  again  conscious  of  his  where 
abouts,  insisted  on  seeing  him ;  and  this  time  the 
silent  padre  of  the  prayers  offered  no  protest,  only 
sat  in  the  window-seat,  and  did  not  lift  his  eyes, 
and  listened. 

"I've  been  wild — just  that,  Keith,  ever  since  they 
brought  you  back.  Who?  oh,  Dona  Raquel  and 
Ana,  and,  of  course,  the  padre.  My !  You  looked 
awful.  I'm  glad  you  are  better.  There  is  to  be 
a  really  great  Spanish  dance,  and  I  should  have  hated 
to  go  unless  you  were  out  of  danger.  They  would 
not  allow  me  inside  this  door  before,  and  I  — 
Keith,  there  are  a  thousand  things  I  want  to  say 
to  you,  and  —  " 

[343] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

The  priest  arose  and  made  a  quiet  movement  toward 
the  door.  The  interview  was  evidently  terminated. 
Keith  had  not  had  a  chance  to  say  anything,  and 
Dona  Angela  whisked  out  of  the  room  in  a  temper. 
She  sought  Rafael,  but  could  not  find  him,  for  the 
reason  that  he  had  taken  Ana's  advice  and  tumbled 
into  bed.  She  finally  found  Ana  and  Raquel  in  the 
dining-room,  and  smiled  tolerantly  at  the  fact  that 
the  latter,  covered  with  a  great  apron  of  linen,  was 
attending  personally  to  the  moulding  of  candles,  and 
not  a  servant,  not  even  Ana,  was  allowed  to  help. 

The  days  of  Dona  Angela's  stay  had  brought 
her  face  to  face  with  many  self-satisfying  little  scenes 
of  that  sort.  Remembering  that  first  meeting  of  the 
two  as  strangers,  it  was  comforting  to  Angela  to  be 
able  to  look  down  in  some  way  on  the  wife  of  Rafael 
Arteaga ;  and  since  she  chose  to  make  of  herself  a 
servant —  It  seemed  so  incredible  to  the  woman  who 
had  never,  never,  had  all  she  wanted  of  luxury,  that 
this  other  girl,  young,  and  many  said  handsome, 
had  not  the  natural  woman's  vanity  for  decking 
herself  with  the  gorgeous  things  stacked  in  those 
old  chests.  To  her  it  seemed  a  warrant  to  Rafael 
to  seek  companionship  elsewhere.  A  woman  who 
could  claim  a  throne  lessened  her  value  by  stooping 
to  the  cares  of  the  kitchen.  It  argued  low  tastes ; 

[344] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

it  emphasized  the  uneven  division  of  things.  It  was 
a  constant  reminder  to  Angela  Bryton  that  she,  the 
woman  who  appreciated  it  all,  who  would  have  held 
a  half-regal  Court  of  Love  in  the  old  walls  where 
only  endless  prayers  were  whispered, —  she  was  the 
woman  to  whom  it  should  belong  by  right.  For  her, 
Rafael  Arteage  would  have  spread  carpets  of  velvet  on 
the  tiled  floors  and  cast  himself,  happy,  at  her  feet. 

All  these  thoughts  had  given  her  a  sort  of  inso 
lent  courage  to  comment  on  the  girl  who  trod  the 
Mission-made  bricks,  and  whose  eyes  looked  out  so 
often  over  one's  head. 

"Of  all  the  Indian  servants,  have  you  none  trained 
in  so  laborious  a  task  as  this  ? "  she  asked,  sinking 
into  one  of  the  rawhide-seated  chairs  at  the  table. 
"It  is  horrid  work.  I  wonder  you  spoil  your  hands." 

Ana  flashed  a  glance  of  resentment  at  the  languid 
blossom  of  a  woman,  always  a  shimmer  of  lacy  ruffles, 
a  picture  of  alluring,  half -childish  helplessness.  It 
was  for  such  a  white  kitten  Rafael  was  losing  all 
his  sense. 

"I  should  be  proud  to  use  my  hands  for  the 
same  work,  instead  of  this  endless  embroidery,"  she 
observed;  "but  Dofia  Raquel  will  not  hear  of  it." 

"To  mould  the  candles  for  the  altar,  each  woman 
of  each  house  should  make  her  own,"  returned 

[345] 


•«••  p 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Raquel,  quietly.  "You  have  not  that  custom  in 
your  land — no?" 

"Certainly  not.  We  are  not  taught  that  extra 
pounds  of  beef  tallow  will  help  to  save  our  souls 
if  burned  in  silver  holders." 

"  No  ?  What,  then,  does  it  take  to  save  souls 
in  your  country  ?  " 

"Those  who  come  here  leave  their  souls  at  home 
for  safe-keeping,"  declared  Ana,  thrusting  her  needle 
viciously  into  the  embroideries  of  lawn;  "they  only 
bring  their  long  purses  to  be  filled." 

For  one  moment  the  snapping  black  eyes  of  Ana  met 
the  childish  blue  ones  of  Angela  and  carried  in  their 
glance  an  accusation  and  understanding.  Angela's  pret 
ty  teeth  closed  with  a  vicious  click  under  her  red  lips, 
then  she  shrugged  her  dimpled  shoulders,  and  laughed. 

"Oh,  you  see  of  course  only  the  merchants  here," 
she  conceded,  "the  people  who  buy  hides,  and  tallow, 
and  herds  of  horses." 

Then  she  turned  again  to  Raquel,  who  had  seen 
some  of  the  little  byplay. 

"  And  those  candles  of  purest  white,  packed  in  scented 
cotton,  for  what  especial  purpose  are  they  reserved  ?  " 

"They  are  the  candles  for  the  dead." 

Angela  shuddered,  as  with  a  passing  chill. 

"How   constantly    you    people    keep    before    you 

[346] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

remembrance  of  the  tomb!"  she  exclaimed.  "One 
needs  to  get  out  in  the  sun  often  to  remember  that 
the  old  Mission  is  not  really  a  vault." 

"It  is,"  said  Ana;  "there  are  padres  of  the  old 
days  buried  under  some  of  the  floors." 

"How  perfectly  horrid  !  And  you  make  all  those 
dozens  of  immaculate  candles  to  be  used  for  whoever 
comes  first,"  she  continued,  addressing  herself  to 
Raquel,  with  a  slight  smile  of  disdain  as  at  a  childish 
pastime ;  "  and  they  are  all  duly  blessed,  I  suppose, 
and  duly  insured  to  light  the  souls  from  the  path 
of  the  inferno." 

For  the  first  time  Raquel  perceived  the  touch  of 
malice  under  the  smiling  query. 

"You  are  right,"  she  said,  quietly;  "  those  are  of  the 
first  I  ever  made  with  my  own  hands  here  in  San  Juan 
Capistrano.  Padre  Sanchez  bestowed  on  them  his 
blessing,  and  the  thought  of  so  holy  a  man  is  in 
itself  a  blessing." 

"But  think,"  persisted  the  soft  little  malicious 
tones,  "is  it  not  often  the  story  of  the  pearls  and  the 
swine?  Any  sodden  drunken  Indian  beast  is  likely 
to  be  laid  in  state  with  those  emblems  of  purity  burn 
ing  in  his  honor." 

Raquel  paused  with  the  last  handful  of  them,  and  the 
violet  eyes,  dark  with  indignation,  met  the  blue  ones. 

[347] 


mm 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  That  is  true,"  she  said,  coldly.  "  We  are  taught 
that  souls  are  all  alike  before  God.  These  in  my  hand 
may  be  lit  for  any  one  —  for  a  sodden  beast  that  dies 
in  sin,  for  a  murderer,  for  me  perhaps,  or  it  may  be 
they  burn  even  for  you,  senora  !  " 

"  Ugh  !  how  ghastly ! "  The  blue  eyes  wavered,  and 
she  arose  with  a  little  shiver.  "  But  I  don't  think  I 
would  want  them,  really,"  she  added,  as  she  was  leav 
ing  the  room,  "  any  more  than  I  would  want  masses 
said  if  I  should  go  under  a  breaker  some  day  when 
bathing,  and  never  come  up  again.  The  fashion  of 
the  living  praying  for  the  dead  seems  a  bit  incon 
gruous  and  amusing.  Save  the  candles  for  those  of 
the  faith,  Dona  Raquel." 

Her  little  mocking  laugh  made  more  pointed  her 
intention  of  ridicule.  The  face  of  Raquel  was  still  and 
expressionless,  as  she  slowly  placed  the  last  of  the 
candles  in  the  perfumed  box  and  closed  the  lid.  Ana 
flung  down  her  embroidery,  and  said  to  Raquel,  with 
blazing  eyes : 

"Raquelita!  Some  day  I  shall  choke  that  pretty 
little  white  devil,  you  will  see!  How  and  why  we 
endure  her  mocking  I  don't  know.  That  she  is  of 
Keith  Bryton's  family  is  something,  but  it  is  not 
enough.  When  he  is  able  I  shall  tell  him  some 
things — I  shall  tell  Don  Eduardo  things!  She  makes 

[348] 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

a  mock  of  our  women,  and  I  keep  quiet ;  she  makes 
her  love  to  your  husband,  and  I  say  nothing  ;  but, 
Raquel,  she  makes  mockery  of  your  religion  in  your 
own  house.  Can  you  stand  that  too  ?  " 

Raquel  put  her  hands  over  her  eyes  an  instant  in  a 
tired  way. 

"  Quiet,  you,  Anita  mia,"  she  said  after  a  little. 
"  Words  are  not  so  much  use.  They  will  go  away 
soon  now — after  the  dance  to-morrow  night.  And  I 
do  not  think  it  is  true  of  Rafael.  He  is  her  caba- 
llero,  as  he  would  be  yours  or  Juanita's ;  that  is  all. 
There  is  that  other  woman  in  the  willows.  She — " 

"  Raquelita,  how  little  you  know  men  !  Pretty 
Marta  by  the  river  is  only  a  servant ;  but  our  men  go 
mad  for  these  white  women  of  blue  eyes  —  mad  ! " 

"A  few  days  more,  and  that  will  be  forgotten  as  he 
would  forget  the  brown  girls.  Have  patience.  At 
least,  she  will  not  mock  our  religion  to  him ;  and 
the  rest  —  it  is  only  one  day  and  two  nights  more, 
Anita,  and  you  will  help  me." 

"At  least  you  will  find  a  way  to  keep  those  pearls 
from  her,"  insisted  Ana,  stubbornly.  "  How  could  you 
offer  them  to  her?  Oh,  I  could  have  screamed  at  you ! " 

"  The  pearls  are  but  a  trifle  to  let  go  for  a  night, 
dear.  Help  me  with  the  candles  to  the  altar-place. 
Oh,  yes,  she  may  have  the  pearls." 

[349] 


'afltv 


* 


£ 


-8— g 


For  •  que    tu  e  -  res      mi       vi  -   da, 


Tu  e  -  res    mi  a- 


a^ 


da, 


Tue  -  res 


Dios! 


CHAPTER   XX 


NGELA  BRYTON  sought  until 
she  found  Rafael  asleep  in  a  cor 
ner  of  the  travellers'  room. 

"Ana  Mendez  knows ;  she 
has  told  your  wife,"  she  said, 
abruptly.  "Two  nights  and  a 
day  we  have;  that  is  all.  Raquel 
says  I  am  not  more  to  you  than  a  brown  girl  in  the 
willows.  You  make  her  pay  for  that !  " 

"Pay?  "  He  rubbed  the  sleep  of  the  brandy  from 
his  eyes  and  sat  up,  then  caught  her  to  him  in  the 
instinct  of  possession. 

Quickly  she  drew  aside  and  eluded  him. 

"  Not   yet,"  she  said,  with  the  glint   of  steel  in 

her   eyes.       "Not   until   you    make    her   pride   pay, 

Rafael  mio !     She  tosses  a  string  of  pearls  to  me  as  a 

queen  would  to  a  waiting-maid,  to  show  how  trifling 

[350] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

a  thing  it  is  to  her.  One  string !  Rafael,  where  now 
is  that  boat  ?  " 

"The  boat?"  He  stumbled  to  his  feet  and  stared 
at  her. 

"The  boat!  You  said  it.  Not  even  my  hand 
shall  you  touch  until  it  is  in  the  harbor.  Cousin 
Eduardo  and  Keith  Bryton  will  send  me  away  when 
she  tells  them ;  they  will  never  let  you  see  me  again." 

"Huh!"  He  flung  back  his  head  contemptu 
ously.  He  had  never  quite  gotten  away  from  Teresa's 
conviction  that  Keith  Bryton's  impatience  with  Angela 
was  born  of  jealousy.  So  it  was  Keith  Bryton  again! 

"  He  gets  you  when  he  has  killed  me,  not  sooner," 
he  muttered.  "  And  they  all  know,  eh  ?  How  is  that  ? " 

"  Perhaps  not,  but  they  will.  It  is  that  Mendez 
woman  and  your  wife  !  I  will  not  be  sent  like  a  pau 
per  back  to  England !  Cousin  Edward  spoke  yester 
day  of  that ;  of  an  allowance  for  Dolly  and  me.  Now 
I  know  what  it  means !  If  I  go,  I  will  go  in  a  manner 
they  don't  dream  of, — alone  in  that  boat!  You  can 
join  me  anywhere  you  say,  on  the  coast.  How  you 
stare !  It  is  not  so  difficult,  and  there  will  never, 
never,  never  be  any  other  way  we  can  be  together." 

"  That  is  true ;  we  will  go." 

"You  want  all  the  coin;  you  want  the  jewels;  you 
want — " 


.     E 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  want  only  you,"  he  said. 

"If  you  want  me,  you  must  give  me  what  I  ask. 
Those  women  must  not  —  " 

"  To  hell  with  the  women !  We  will  go,  and  no 
one  need  guess  we  have  gone  together.  I  will  send 
Victorio  with  a  letter  to  San  Pedro  for  a  boat. 
Your  lips  for  that  promise!" 

"When  the  boat  is  in  the  harbor,  and  the  jewels  in 
my  hand,  Rafael,"  she  replied,  and  darted  like  a  bird 
through  the  door,  and  out  into  the  garden.  Later 
she  came  into  the  refectory  with  an  armful  of  lilies,— 
symbols  of  innocence, — and  asked  Ana  for  an  olla  for 
them,  and  was  very  demure  and  sweetly  appealing  for 
the  rest  of  the  day. 


[35*1 


^ACH  WAY  HE  TURNED  HE  MET  AN  ALTAR  OR  A  PRIEST" 


dul  •  ce    sen  -  ti  -  nel  -  la,     te   guar-  da  il    co   -  ro  -  ion, 
men  •  tes  mas      la     lla  -  ma,  Pie  -  dad    a  un  tro  -  ba  -  dour, 


gg  —  i 

—  M-—  r- 

BE 

La  no-che'sta    se-re  -    na,  tran-quil-loel  a  -qui-lon, 
De  un  co  -  ra-  zon  que  te  a  -  ma,    re  -  ci  -  be  el  tier  no  a-  mor, 


Tu 
No  an- 


Y  en 
Y 


a-  las  de    los     ze.  •  fi-ros,  que    va-ganpor  do-  quier, 
si     te  mue-ve  a   las  -  ti  -  ma,  Mi  e  -  ter  -  no   pa  -  de  -  cer, 


Vo 

Co- 


Ian -do  van  mis    su  -  pli-cas,    a      ti     bel-la     mu  •  jer, 
mo    te    a  -  mo     a  -  ma-  me,  bel  -  li  -  si  -  ma   mu  -  jer, 


Vo- 
Co- 


Ian  -  do  van  mis    su  -  pll  -  cas,     a      ti     bel  •  la    mu  -  jer ! 
mo    te      a  -  mo     a  •  ma -me,  bel  -  li  .  si  •  ma   mu-jer! 


HAT    Padre    Libertad    saw    or 
heard   he  did  not  particularize. 
But    when    Keith    Bryton,   the 
day  of  the   Spanish  dance,  had 
arisen  and  dressed,  and  talked  a 
little  with  all    those  known   to 
him  in  the  Mission,  except  the 
mistress  of  it,  the  bearded  priest  closed  the  door  on 
them  all,  and  came  and  sat  beside  him. 
"To-morrow,  my  friend,  we  go,"  he  said. 
"Can  I  —  will  she  speak  to  me  —  once?" 
"What  is  there  to  say  to  a  woman  like  that?    God! 
To  think  that  such  a  one  should  be  Rafael  Arteaga's 
wife ! " 

"No,"  agreed  the  other;  "there  is  nothing  to  be 
said.  Only  I  would  like  to  see  her  face  once,  even 
though  she  should  not  know  it.  Could  that  be  ? " 

"It  is  not  wise;  it  sends  you  away  with  more  of 
a  heartache ;  but  there  is  one  place  she  goes  each 
evening  as  the  stars  come  out.  There  is  one  saint 

[3J5] 


I 


u 

5>C5 
b  d 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

left  in  one  niche  of  the  old  ruin.  Since  she  rode 
with  us  from  the  hills,  flowers  are  always  there, 
and  she  goes  from  her  own  chapel  there  —  to  pray, 
perhaps.  She  has  not  said  so,  but — " 

"I  can  see  her  there.  Will  you — will  you  try  to 
manage  that  no  one  else  comes  ?  Oh,  it  will  be  brief 
enough,  even  if  we  speak.  But  the  statue  in  the 
niche — I  can't  remember." 

"It  is  in  the  shadow.  The  draperies  of  red  are 
very  faded,  and  so  is  the  gilt  of  the  embroideries  now. 
Once  it  was  very  gorgeous,  and  it  is  called  Maria 
Madalena." 

Keith  turned  on  the  speaker  with  flaming  eyes. 

"She  kneels  there  to  pray  —  she?  What  mad 
fanaticism  is  that  ?  Good  God,  man !  she  is  the 
soul  of  innocence  !  " 

"What  she  knows  of  her  own  heart,  she  knows, 
my  friend.  This  is  not  the  thing  to  tell  a  man  who 
is  to  her  what  you  are;  but  there  is  —  there  may  be 
some  day,  a  thing  that  will  leave  her  free ;  and  if  it 
come  —  " 

Keith  had  covered  his  face  with  his  hands.  The 
weakness  of  the  illness  was  still  on  him;  he  durst  not 
leave  his  eyes  unguarded.  But  after  a  little  he  looked 
up. 

"You  know  something  more?"  he  said. 

[356] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  I  know  there  is  another  woman  who  has  Rafael 
tied  hand  and  foot ;  I  know  she  will  take  him  away; 
the  only  thing  I  do  not  know  is  how  long  it  will  last. 
The  bishop  himself  would  help  such  a  separation." 

"God  himself  could  not,"  said  Keith,  "unless  he 
kill  Rafael  Arteaga.  When  I  heard  what  he  said  of 
her  outside  the  window,  I  was  tempted  to  kill  him 
with  my  own  hand.  Nothing  else  would  free  her;  I 
heard  the  oath  she  took ! " 

"  To  send  to  eternity  the  soul  she  is  vowed  to  guard 
would  not  free  her  from  the  idea.  If  he  should  die 
suddenly,  unshriven,  it  is  a  lost  soul,  just  the  same." 

"  It  is  the  maddest  fanaticism  to  bind  a  child  like 
that  to  such  a  hell;  and  she  accepts  it,  as  —  as  her 
people  in  the  past  accepted  the  order  for  sacrifices." 

"What  do  you  know  of  her  people?  " 

"What  do  you?" 

The  two  men  looked  into  each  other's  eyes  for  a 
moment,  and  then  Padre  Libertad  spoke: 

"  I  saw  her  mother  years  ago  in  Mexico.  I  was 
only  a  boy,  and  I  adored  Estevan.  I  carried  letters 
for  their  love-making.  That  helps  me  to  understand 
their  daughter.  It  is  true;  it  is  in  the  blood,  and 
you  must  go,  my  friend,  before  worse  happens.  And 
if  ever  she  should  be  free— 

Keith  put  out  his  hand. 

[357] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Don't  tempt  me  with  a.  hope  like  that!     I  want 
to  be  sane  when  I  do  see  her !  " 


He  saw  Dona  Angela  first,  a  delightful  vision  of 
brocades  and  white  mantilla.  She  had  dressed  early, 
that  she  might  help  to  receive  the  guests. 

She  flinched  a  little  under  his  keen  glance  as  his 
eyes  wandered  from  the  pearl-trimmed  bodice  to  the 
fair  face. 

"  Oh,  of  course  it  is  not  mourning,"  she  exclaimed, 
"if  that  is  what  you  are  thinking  of!  But  at  least  I 
wear  no  color,  and  it  is  only  for  one  night.  I  have 
not  the  least  intention  of  dancing.  The  whole  affair 
is  only  to  show  off  the  old  costumes." 

"You  succeed  very  well,"  he  remarked.  "Let 
Dolly  come  around  to  see  me  when  she  has  had 
supper.  I  leave  early  in  the  morning,  and  can't  see 
her  then  to  say  good-bye." 

"So  soon — going?"  She  tried  to  keep  the  delight 
from  her  tone  of  surprise.  He  was  the  most  unman 
ageable  man  she  had  ever  known.  His  indifference 
had  attracted  her,  even  infatuated  her,  a  year  ago,  but 
there  were  days  since  when  she  thought  she  hated 
him.  "Yes,  I  will  send  Dolly.  She  loves  you  dearly, 
more  even  than  she  did  poor  Ted." 

"  We  will  not  discuss  my  brother,"  he  said,  coldly. 

[358] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"  But  that  will  not  prevent  me  caring  for  the  child  as 
he  would  have  done." 

"  Irrespective  of  her  mother  ? "  she  asked,  halting 
in  the  door  and  looking  over  her  shoulder  at  him. 

"  Certainly. " 

"  Or  —  or  of  anything  I  might  offend  you  in  ?  " 

"  Nothing  you  choose  to  do  will  affect  my  promise 
to  my  brother,"  he  said,  impatient  at  her  persist 
ence. 

"I  may  remind  you  of  that  some  day,"  she  said, 
gathering  up  her  brocades.  "  If  you  do  go,  I  hope 
that  ghoul  of  a  man,  your  padre,  goes  too.  His 
silence  makes  him  more  like  a  spook  than  a  man. 
The  people  have  a  holy  horror  of  his  piety." 

After  she  had  disappeared,  Padre  Libertad  entered 
from  an  inner  room  and  smiled  grimly  at  Bryton. 

"  You  are  the  sort  of  lover  to  be  unhappy,"  he 
observed.  "  You  can't  console  yourself  with  the  other 
women.  Half  the  men  in  the  valley  are  mad  over 
that  woman,  who  would  coquette  with  you  if  you 
did  not  turn  ice  when  she  comes  near." 

Keith  stared  out  of  the  window  toward  the  hills 
of  the  sea,  tinged  with  the  warm  rose  of  the  sunset. 
And  the  man  in  a  priest's  robe  tried  to  laugh,  and 
ended  with  a  sigh. 

"  I   admire   your  strength,  though    I    doubt   if  I 

[359] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

could  emulate  it,"  he  confessed.  "  One  pretty  woman 
in  sight  is  worth  a  dozen  goddesses  over  the  hill." 

"Talk  sense  if  you  can  !  " 

"  I  can.  I  shall  leave  to-night  instead  of  to-morrow. 
I  find  I  can  go  to  Mexico,  or  South  America  if  I 
choose,  without  touching  land.  I  shall  be  running 
away  with  the  property  of  a  relative,  and  you  might 
not  care  to  mix  up  with  it." 

"  An  hour  ago  you  had  no  such  plan." 

"An  hour  ago  I  had  not  confessed  Victorio  Lopez! 
I  know  an  old  record  of  his,  and  he  thinks  it  is  witch 
craft.  There  is  a  lot  of  coin  going  along,  —  a  matter 
of  several  rawhide  sacks  of  it,  —  but  it  will  be  donated 
by  a  man  who  can  afford  gifts.  Let  me  have  your 
address  two  months  ahead,  and  I  can  tell  you  how  it 
all  turns  out." 

"You  should  be  glad  to  get  away  alive,  without 
weighting  yourself  with  coin.  There  is  a  woman  here 
who  would  care  if  things  went  entirely  wrong." 

"Ana?  It  is  for  her  I  take  the  chance.  I  know 
a  corner  down  the  coast  where  fifty  thousand  will  last 
forever.  She  is  free,  and  she  is  of  California — no 
snow  of  the  hills  in  her  blood !  She  will  come  to  me 
after  the  chase  is  over." 

"She  knows?" 

"  Not  yet.     Women's  fears  upset  things  sometimes. 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


If  I  do  not  tell  her,  it  will 


tell  that  I 


she 


be  better.     I   need  only 
waiting  eagerly  for  that." 


going; 

"  And  Victorio  Lopez?  " 

"He  is  paralyzed  by  the  fear  that  I  may  give  some 
old  proofs  of  things  to  the  alcalde.  Oh,  Victorio  is  all 
right.  He  knows  two  Indian  sailors  who  will  say 
nothing.  They  need  to  get  away,  and  want  a  chance. 
We  will  bind  and  gag  the  others  and  put  them  ashore. 
It  is  all  settled.  The  saints  be  thanked  that  I  know 
boats  and  the  coast !  " 

Bryton  scarcely  knew  whether  to  think  the  plan  a 
wild  fancy  or  an  actual  fact.  The  whole  scheme  of 
life  those  days  was  so  filled  with  the  strange  and 
tragic,  that  all  the  echoes  of  laughter  and  the  tinkle 
of  guitars  in  the  corridors  could  not  even  temper  it. 

At  sunset  Rafael  Arteaga  rode  a  dripping  horse  into 
the  plaza,  and  shouted  cordial  responses  to  the  chorus 
of  greetings  awaiting  him.  All  the  day  he  had  been  in 
the  saddle.  "On  business,"  was  the  only  explanation 
to  Don  Eduardo  and  Dofia  Maria.  To  his  wife  he  had 
offered  none,  nor  spoken  since  the  scene  in  the  chapel. 
But  he  was  in  high  good  spirits,  gay  and  eager. 

He  came  direct  to  Bryton's  room  with  a  fine  air  of 
delight  that  he  was  on  his  feet  again.  Even  to  Padre 
Libertad,  whom  he  had  so  fervently  cursed  the  day 
before,  he  was  at  last  gracious.  When  told  by  Ana 


ft 


•V**3 

lkWy 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

that  the  padre  was  on  his  journey  south  either  at  once 
or  early  in  the  morning,  he  gave  her  some  gold  pieces 
to  bestow  upon  him  for  his  church  or  his  order:  priests 
always  had  all  sorts  of  ways  to  use  money.  Padre 
Libertad  accepted  the  alms  gratefully,  and  exchanged 
for  them  a  blessing. 

The  sun  was  gone,  and  men,  and  women  too,  were 
riding  in  from  outlying  ranches.  The  Indians  and 
Mexicans  were  trooping  to  the  plaza  to  watch  the  gay 
caballeros  and  dark-eyed  ladies  in  the  dresses  of  their 
grandparents.  Raquel  Arteaga,  dressed  in  simple  black, 
with  white  undersleeves  and  white  chemisette  of  silk, 
stood  in  the  corridor  for  a  while  and  greeted  her  earlier 
guests,  while  her  husband  dressed.  All  the  people  were 
on  the  west  side  of  the  plaza,  where  the  dancing  was  to 
be.  Bryton  could  see  her  there  surrounded  by  the  gay 
people,  almost  nunlike  with  the  strings  of  black  pearls 
around  her  throat  as  sole  ornament,  and  in  the  braids 
of  her  hair  the  white  stars  of  the  odorous  jasmine, 
thrust  there  by  Ana,  to  break  the  severity  of  her  garb. 
Her  eyes  burned  like  purple  stars,  and  the  pink  color 
crept,  in  spite  of  herself,  to  her  cheeks,  and  stayed  there. 
Somewhere,  she  knew,  one  man  was  watching  her,  and 
each  moment  the  terror  grew  that  some  of  their  many 
friends  would  bring  him  to  her  and  make  it  impossible 
for  him  to  refuse  to  come. 


Tir — mm 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 


Several  times  she  caught  the  eyes  of  Ana  regarding 
her  curiously.  It  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever  seen 
Raquel  surrounded  by  men  and  bandying  compliments, 
and  looking,  for  all  her  nunlike  white  and  black,  like  a 
royal  creature  at  a  puppet  show.  And  Ana  had  a  sort 
of  triumph  in  noting  that  the  eyes  of  Dona  Angela  also 
wandered  to  her  hostess  in  a  sort  of  petulant  amaze  at 
the  supremacy  of  her,  when  she  chose  to  unbend  and 
radiate  graciousness  in  that  manner.  For  Raquel  jested 
and  laughed  at  the  pretty  phrases  of  caballeros  mur 
mured  in  her  ear.  She  refused  a  brooch  of  emerald  for 
the  Virgin  in  the  chapel,  in  exchange  for  the  jasmine  in 
her  hair.  She  promised  two  men  to  say  a  rosary  for 
their  aching  hearts,  and  she  allowed  the  older  men  to 
kiss  her  hands.  One  looking  at  her  said : 

"You  are  Mexico  come  to  life  to-night,  senora. 
Always  I  have  thought  it.  But  to-night  I  see  it  with 
my  own  eyes.  Mexico  has  always  that  glory  of  the  opal 
fires  at  the  heart." 

Angela  Bryton  saw  and  heard,  and  her  own  childish 
appeal  appeared  all  at  once  cheap  and  of  tinsel.  The 
pearls  and  brocades  of  the  woman  she  hated  seemed  to 
scorch  her  flesh,  and  she  felt  the  truth  of  the  petulant 
words  she  had  said  to  Rafael:  that  the  pearls  had  been 
tossed  to  her  with  the  indifference  of  a  queen.  The 
owner  of  the  casket  could  afford  to  stand  serene  and 

[363] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

gemless,  with  only  the  jasmine  flower  in  her  hair,  and 
yet  dominate. 

A  cold  rage  filled  her  as  she  realized  what  Raquel 
could  mean  to  men  if  she  cared.  It  would  be  as  it  was 
when  they  met  first  on  the  hill,  always  she  would  hold 
the  middle  of  the  road,  if  she  was  aroused  to  care.  Up 
to  that  moment  there  had  been  a  wild  fancy  of  perhaps 
sailing  away  alone  with  the  hastily  gathered  coin,  and 
of  stopping  at  no  port  for  Rafael.  She  was  half  afraid 
of  him  and  after  all  what  could  he  do  if  she  did  elude 
him  like  that  ?  But  the  sight  of  Raquel  and  her  little 
court  of  admirers  changed  all  that.  The  proud  eyes 
should  know  all  the  humiliation  one  woman  could 
cause  another  —  all! 

She  looked  for  Rafael;  at  once  she  would  tell  him, — 
now,  while  the  glory  of  the  Mexican  opal  eclipsed  the 
woman  of  the  royal  pearls!  She  was  blind  with  anger 
to  every  other  thing.  But  he  had  not  yet  appeared. 
He  was  dressing,  and  a  gentleman  came  to  claim  her  for 
a  dance.  The  guitars  were  already  sending  harmonies 
through  the  open  doors,  and  the  people  were  gather 
ing  thick  along  the  western  corridors.  The  rest  of 
the  plaza  and  the  inner  court  were  deserted.  Not 
even  a  pair  of  lovers  strayed  from  the  crowd  as  yet. 
Later,  when  the  moon  came  up,  they  would  gather 
courage,  but  the  shadows  of  the  corridors  seemed 

[364] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

eerie  retreats  at  night  to  any  but  souls  oblivious  to  the 
world. 

It  was  not  night  yet.  The  first  star  glimmered  in 
the  western  sky,  and  to  the  east  a  soft  radiance  over 
San  Juan  Mountain  marked  the  path  where  the  moon 
would  come.  In  the  warm  dusk  the  woman  with  the 
opal  fires  of  Mexico  in  her  heart  slipped  away  from  the 
gay  groups  and  through  the  stillness  of  the  padres' 
garden,  under  the  sculptured  face  and  serpent,  and  then 
to  the  place  of  the  altar,  where  the  shadows  were  always 
softest.  She  came  swiftly,  silently ;  she  had  an  odd 
feeling  of  being  followed  by  his  thoughts.  The  altar 
was  the  one  place  of  refuge  surely  —  the  altar! 

But  it  was  not.  He  stood  there  leaning  against 
the  pillar.  She  carried  a  tiny  candle  and  a  rosary. 
He  watched  her  light  other  candles  in  the  niche,  thus 
outlining  the  carved  saint  with  the  long  hair  over  her 
shoulders,  and  the  draperies  of  crimson.  Flowers 
were  there,  blood-red  roses,  and  he  saw  it  all  in  the 
soft  glimmer  of  the  candles ;  then,  as  she  was  about 
to  kneel  before  them,  he  strode  forward  and  caught 
her  arm. 

The  golden  rosary  fell  on  the  tiled  floor  between 
them,  and  she  placed  her  other  hand  over  his,  in 
mute  appeal. 

"You  shall  not  kneel  at  that  altar,"  he  commanded, 

[36*] 


FOR     THE    SOUL    OF    RAFAEL 

his  voice  scarcely  raised  above  a  whisper  ;  "  that  much 
of  you  belongs  to  me.  I  will  not  go  away  from  you 
with  that  memory  of  you  in  my  mind ;  I  will  not !  " 

She  was  trembling,  and  dared  not  lift  her  eyes. 

"You  should  not  have  touched  me,"  she  said, 
brokenly.  "All  those  hours  on  the  hill  I  did  not 
touch  you  even  once.  Must  the  two  of  us  be  weaker 
than  one  ? " 

"Weak?  Oh  yes,  I  am  weak  to-night,  or  I  should 
not  be  here  —  the  weakness  of  a  sick  man  who  cannot 
help  himself.  It  is  the  last  time,  Espiritu  mia,  so 
long  as  we  live  —  so  long  as  we  live  !  " 

She  slipped  the  Aztec  ring  from  her  finger  and  gave 
it  to  him. 

"I  thought  perhaps  it  was  the  ring  that  gave  you 
power  over  my  thoughts,"  she  said,  simply  ;  "but 
it  was  not.  Your  heart  beats  here  in  my  breast, 
and  will  till  I  die,  or  till  you  do.  Take  it  back, 
keep  it.  After  all,  it  was  not  the  ring !  " 

Her  voice  was  so  low,  so  even,  that  he,  hearing  his 
own  heart-beats  at  the  mere  sight  of  her,  felt  the 
sudden  resentment  of  a  sick  man  at  what  appeared 
to  be  her  cold  control  of  herself. 

"Is  it  so  easy  for  you,  then?"  he  asked.  "Like 
slipping  a  ring  from  your  finger  or  a  bracelet  from 
your  wrist,  and  putting  it  aside  to  wear  no  more? 

[366] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

Oh,  God !  If  but  for  one  minute  you  could  know 
aught  but  the  sweet  cool  love  of  the  girl,  or  the  nun, 
or  the  devotee  !  " 

She  caught  her  breath  in  a  little  shudder  at  the 
heart-call  in  his  words,  then  put  out  her  hand  and 
looked  at  him  as  he  had  never  seen  her  look. 

"Don't  touch  me,"  she  said,  her  tones  tense  with 
a  final  decision.  "You  think  that  I  do  not  know  — 
that  I  do  not  understand ;  yet  you  see  me  kneel 
there!"  and  she  flung  one  eloquent  hand  to  the 
Madalena  of  the  roses.  "It  is  the  thought  —  the 
thought !  That  we  live  on  different  sides  of  the  world 
will  not  change  the  fact  that  you  live  in  me,  and  I  in 
you.  And  it  will  be  always  —  always !  I  do  not 
understand?  Yet  I  have  locked  my  door  at  night 
and  flung  the  key  through  the  bars  of  the  window, 
that  I  could  not  follow  my  heart  and  go  to  you 
wherever  you  were !  I  do  not  understand  ?  Yet 
there  have  been  days  when  I  feared  to  mount  my 
horse  to  ride  alone,  for  fear  the  wild  wish  for  you 
would  grow  stronger  than  I  could  bear,  and  I  should 
ride  to  you,  to  you  only,  and  —  oh,  Mother  of  God! 
—  ask  you  to  keep  me  there  !  " 

Her  voice  broke  in  shuddering  sobs,  and  she 
covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  sinking  on  her  knees 
before  the  Madalena  of  the  altar,  the  last  crowned 

[367] 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

saint  left  in  the  ruin.  Her  one  hand  was  still  ex 
tended  to  ward  him  off,  but  he  caught  it,  held  it,  and 
drew  her  to  him. 

"You  are  mine  by  all  that!"  he  muttered,  scarce 
knowing  what  he  said.  "  Do  you  think  I  shall  leave 
you  here  after  knowing  the  truth  ?  Espiritu  !  The 
Indians  named  you  rightly.  Spirit  of  mine,  there  are 
no  bonds  of  earth  strong  enough  to  keep  me  from 
you  now.  Come  !  Our  world  is  together ;  the  nights 
of  the  evil  dreams  have  been  lived  through.  Some 
where  we  shall  find  the  sunshine." 

The  hand  clasping  hers  she  caught  to  her  lips,  but 
when  he  would  have  clasped  her,  she  broke  from  him 
with  a  low  moan  of  protest. 

"I  tell  you  this  that  you  go  away  knowing  that 
the  real  life  of  me  is  with  you  always,"  she  said, 
and  stood  leaning  against  the  altar  of  the  saint.  "Go 
now,  and  go  quickly ;  for  I  tell  you  truly,  if  the  day 
ever  come  again  when  I  find  myself  like  to  follow 
you,  I  will  come  where  I  am  now,  and  this  will 
end  it  all." 

From  the  bodice  of  her  gown  she  drew  the  little 
dagger  she  had  taken  from  the  jewel-casket  the  day 
before. 

"My  life  is  not  my  own  to  live  in  my  own  way; 
it  is  bound  by  an  oath  to  the  dead,  and  there  is  no 

[368] 


"  ONE  WORDLESS  MINUTE." 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

release,  none  —  none!  Go  now.  You  know  my  heart 
and  the  madness  of  it.  Forget  me  if  you  can, —  but 
oh,  beloved,  not  too  quickly  ! " 

He  caught  her  to  him  and  held  her  there.  The 
world  reeled  about  them  for  one  wordless  minute, 
and  then  he  released  her  and  walked  out  across  where 
the  tower  of  the  temple  had  once  been,  and  he  knew 
he  was  leaving  her  forever.  A  horse  was  waiting. 
He  had  said  he  could  ride  best  in  the  moonlight, 
and  a  little  later  the  hoof-beats  sounded  through  the 
strumming  guitars,  and  she  knew  it  was  over!  It  was 
her  sacrifice  for  the  oath  to  the  dead,  and  she  sank 
prostrate  in  the  shadow  of  the  altar.  The  tiny 
candles  glimmered  and  went  out,  yet  still  she  lay 
there.  The  moon  in  its  soft  yellow  light  flooded  the 
open  space  without,  but  did  not  touch  her.  She  had 
found  the  rosary  and  clasped  it,  her  lips  against 
the  cold  pearl  figure  of  the  sculptured  Christ. 

And  then  two  persons  came  toward  her  through 
the  arch  of  the  old  sacristy,  one  in  the  velvet  and 
gold  lace  of  a  Spanish  grandee,  and  the  other  a  shim 
mer  of  brocade  and  pearl-gemmed  lilies. 

"No,  I  will  not  go  without  it,"  the  woman's  voice 
was  saying,  petulantly,  "  not  though  a  dozen  boats 
waited  !  Yes,  I  can  slip  away  after  the  dance.  Have 
a  horse  ready.  Dolly  will  be  sleeping;  she  is  the 

[369] 


itm 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

greatest  risk.  But  we  can  be  out  of  sight  of  land 
long  before  the  dawn  breaks." 

The  man  murmured  some  plea  in  her  ear,  and  she 
turned  away,  shrugging  her  shoulders. 

"The  jewels  first!"  she  said,  with  pretty  decision. 
"The  coin  is  a  matter  of  course;  we  shall  need  that  to 
live  on.  But  the  jewels  —  why  not?  Half  of  them 
belonged  to  your  own  family,  and  for  the  rest  —  well, 
you  leave  her  enough  to  give  the  Church ;  that  is  all 
she  lives  for.  Bring  me  the  jewels  at  once :  when  I 
see  them  in  my  own  hand,  I  am  ready  to  promise 
everything." 

"You  are  not  afraid  to  wait  here  ? " 

"Yes,  a  little,"  she  acknowledged.  "It's  a  horrid, 
creepy  place,  but  it 's  the  one  corner  where  no  one 
else  will  come.  I  will  wait  for  them  here." 

The  woman  prostrate  before  the  Madalena  arose 
to  her  feet  and  stood  motionless  in  the  shadow.  Her 
hands  were  crossed  unconsciously  on  her  heart  to 
quiet  its  beating.  Her  own  sacrifice,  then,  was  to  go 
for  nothing;  the  vow  she  had  sworn  to  live  for  was  to 
count  for  naught  because  of  one  little  white  vampire 
of  a  creature  whose  god  was  gold  and  jewels! 

The  crossed  hands  held  the  rosary  and  the  dagger. 

"They  are  here,"  said  Rafael,  returning  after  a  few 
minutes,  "all  but  the  few  the  girls  wear  to-night. 

[370] 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

There !  They  are  at  last  in  your  own  hands ,  and 
now —  " 

She  slipped  her  white  arm  about  his  throat  and 
kissed  him  on  the  mouth. 

"And  you  will  live  in  my  way  —  not  hers?"  she 
said,  with  clinging  sweetness.  "You  are  not  to  be 
even  Catholic  with  me  ?  You  have  promised  !  " 

"Thou  art  my  only  god,  O  little  white  one!  "  he 
said,  and  pressed  her  to  his  breast.  "All  the  world 
can  go  to  hell,  so  I  have  you  !  My  soul  I  give  into 
these  little  hands ;  my  heart  is  under  these  little  feet, 
which  I  kiss  thus,  and  thus,  and  thus !  Though 
Christ  himself  stood  in  the  way,  I  would  have  you 
for  myself ! " 

She  laughed  softly  in  her  triumph. 

"  We  shall  be  missed,"  she  said  at  last.  "  Go  that 
way  to  the  plaza,  and  I  will  go  by  the  old  garden. 
These  I  will  wrap  up  and  carry  in  my  own  hands. 
Go, —  oh,  there  will  be  other  nights  for  kisses, —  go 
now,  quickly  !  " 

She  pushed  him  from  her,  and  he  obeyed,  walking 
across  the  tiled  floor  in  the  moonlight,  and  out  into 
the  plaza,  as  Bryton  had  walked  so  short  a  time 
before.  The  woman  with  the  casket  stood  an  instant 
looking  after  him,  and  then  raised  the  lid  and  lifted 
a  handful  of  the  gems,  holding  them  up  that  the  soft 

[370 


raw 

• 

FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

light  of  the  moon  might  add  to  the  glow  of  rubies 
and  the  white  fire  of  diamonds. 

"All  these,  and  his  very  soul  besides!"  she  mur 
mured,  holding  a  necklace  aloft  to  the  moon's  rays,  — 
"his  soul  besides  !  " 

And  then  a  low  strangled  cry  escaped  her  as  the 
woman  of  the  rosary  and  dagger  came  silently  to  her 
from  the  shadows  and  halted  a  moment  beside  her. 


A  little  later  the  Padre  Libertad  was  stopped  in 
the  corridor  by  Raquel.  He  had  been  watching  the 
dancers,  and  was  about  to  start  south.  Like  Bryton, 
he  meant  to  ride  at  night,  instead  of  in  the  hot  sun. 

"Wait,"  she  said,  imperatively;  "the  chapel  is 
open ;  I  would  confess  before  you  go." 

"  But  to-morrow  —  your  own  padre  — 

"To-night,"  she  said;  "and  I  want  no  other  padre." 

"If  you  have  remembered  a  sin — "  he  began,  hesi 
tatingly  ;  but  she  interrupted. 

"  I  think  it  is  neither  sin  nor  remorse,"  she  said, 
quietly ;  "but  it  is  you  that  must  listen  to  me." 

He  closed  the  door  behind  them.  Old  Polonia 
crouched  unnoticed  beside  it,  and  in  perhaps  ten 
minutes  he  came  out  again,  and  started  to  walk 
the  road  to  the  sea.  Rafael  saw  him,  and  laughed  at 
the  queer  crack-brained  padre  who  preferred  walking 

[372] 


I 


"THINGS  KNOWN  AND  NEVER  TOLD." 


FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

to  riding  a  good  horse.  Others  laughed  also,  and  the 
dance  went  on,  until  the  partners  of  Dona  Angela  grew 
impatient,  and  a  gay  party  with  guitars  started  to 
encircle  the  plaza  for  her,  singing  love-songs  of  appeal 
as  they  went. 

The  white  gleam  of  the  brocaded  gown  caught  the 
eyes  of  the  singers,  and  then  a  great  cry  went  up 
in  the  night,  and  the  music  of  the  dance  ceased, 
and  the  people  crowded  about  the  dead  woman  on  the 
altar  steps,  and  the  old  Indies  crossed  themselves, 
and  said  in  their  own  tongue : 

"It  has  come,  after  all, — the  sacrifice  of  blood  on 
the  altar  of  the  temple,  —  the  thing  our  fathers  told 
us  has  come  to  pass." 

The  strings  of  pearls  and  other  jewels  were 
scattered  on  the  diamond-shaped  tiles  of  the  floor, 
and  many  were  red  with  blood. 

"Some  one  has  tried  to  steal  the  jewels  while  we 
all  danced  there,"  suggested  one  of  the  guests,  "and 
she  has  died  defending  them.  Rafael,  she  has  given 
her  life  to  save  the  jewels  of  your  wife  !  " 

"Yes,"  Rafael  said,  at  last,  and  stared  at  the  speaker 
in  a  dazed  way;  "my  wife.  I  —  I  will  go  to  my  wife." 

He  strode  through  the  crowd  toward  the  living- 
rooms,  and  flung  wide  the  door  of  her  chamber.  She 
was  on  her  knees  where  Padre  Libertad  had  left  her. 

[373] 


a  kp55^^^3^ 

FOR     THE    SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

"Raquel!" 

His  voice  sounded  hollow  and  strange  in  his  own 
ears.  A  strange  buzzing  in  his  head  blurred  speech 
and  thought,  and  when  she  arose  and  faced  him  with 
clear  eyes  and  quiet  face,  he  leaned  against  the  chair 
and  looked  at  her  strangely  —  helplessly. 

"She  is  dead,"  he  said,  thickly;  "Angela  Bry ton 
is  found  dead  —  and  your  jewels  — 

"Wait,"  she  said,  "and  I  will  go  with  you." 

And  turning,  she  lifted  the  lid  from  the  perfumed 
box  of  candles. 

"She  did  not  believe  in  these,"  she  said,  quietly, 
"but  we  will  light  them  for  her,  just  the  same.  None 
of  us  knew  whom  they  would  burn  for ;  perhaps  she 
knows  now,  Rafael." 

He  made  no  answer,  but  moved  like  a  man  stunned 
mentally.  Out  beside  her  he  walked  to  the  altar- 
place,  and  the  people  made  way  for  them. 

It  was  the  hour  of  dawn  when  a  fisherman  rode 
from  the  beach  to  tell  how  he  had  found  two  sailors 
beaten  and  bound  at  the  landing-place.  They  had 
a  story  of  a  sailing-vessel  and  sacks  of  coin,  and  a 
bearded  man  who  looked  like  El  Capitan ;  but  it  must 
have  been  his  ghost,  for  it  was  thought  Capitan  was 
dead,  as  well  as  Juan  Flores.  At  any  rate,  the  vessel 
was  gone,  and  the  sailors  were  left  tied  on  the  shore. 

[374] 


SOUL     OF 

They  were  afraid  to  face  Rafael  Arteaga,  because 
of  the  coin  he  had  trusted  them  with,  and  the  good 
boat,  gone  now  straight  out  of  sight  —  the  saints  and 
the  devil  only  knew  where  ! 

But  they  needed  not  to  fear  Rafael.  The  coin, 
for  which  he  had  exchanged  all  the  cattle  and  horses 
possible  to  sell  in  two  days'  time,  was  a  forgotten 
thing  to  him,  or  uncared  for.  He  sat  apart  and  silent, 
as  though  paralyzed  by  a  great  fear,  and  he  ever  fol 
lowed  Raquel  Arteaga  with  his  eyes,  and  said  nothing. 

The  people  wondered  much  that  the  robbers  who 
would  kill  a  woman  and  steal  a  boat  had  not  stopped 
also  to  gather  up  the  scattered  jewels  strewn  about 
her.  But  they  had  not.  Not  even  a  diamond  was 
missing.  They  were  gathered  from  the  tiles,  and  the 
blood  was  washed  from  them,  and  the  casket  was  taken 
to  Raquel  by  Ana,  who  was  almost  as  silent  as  Rafael. 
On  that  subject,  never  in  their  lives  would  they  gain 
courage  to  speak.  Raquel  took  the  casket,  and  looked 
at  the  gems,  but  did  not  touch  them. 

"And  for  such  trifles  she  lost  her  life,  perhaps  her 
soul  —  who  knows?"  she  said,  in  the  same  colorless 
quiet  way,  and  handed  the  casket  to  her  husband. 
"  Rafael,  have  these  put  away  for  her  child,  when 
she  becomes  a  woman.  They  were  paid  for  by 
the  mother ! " 

[375] 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

From  that  night  Rafael  Arteaga  was  a  changed  man. 
Some  said  he  had  gone  mad  at  the  death  of  the 
woman  there  ;  others  said  that  it  was  not  the  death  of 
the  woman,  but  the  curse  of  the  Arteagas  had  fallen 
upon  him.  No  one  ever  heard  him  laugh  or  sing 
again ;  and  when  his  wife  brought  pretty  Marta's 
little  boy  from  the  willows,  and  had  him  educated 
to  inherit  after  his  father,  the  father  accepted  him 
almost  without  notice. 

Keith  Bryton  never  came  back.  Letters  concerning 
the  child  of  Dofia  Angela  were  exchanged  with  Don 
Eduardo,  who  remained  her  guardian,  and  after  that 
there  were  long  years  of  silence.  Only  one  man,  far 
down  the  coast  of  South  America,  guessed  what 
Raquel  Arteaga  lived  through.  Even  to  Ana,  who 
had  left  her  own  land  to  join  him,  there  were  some 
things  known  to  him  of  the  old  Mission  days,  and 
never  told. 


[376] 


Al  Fh 


%m 


CHAPTER    XXII 

AQUEL  knelt  no  more  at  the 
shrine  of  the  Madalena,  but 
she  went  there  nightly  as  the 
afterglow  flooded  the  valley. 
Sometimes  she  rode  her  horse 
alone  up  the  dusk  shadows  of 
Trabuco,  past  the  portal  of  the 
aliso  tree  and  into  the  inner  court  of  memory.  But 
always  she  kept  the  tryst  of  the  first  star  of  nightfall. 

When  the  years  of  the  great  war  of  the  East  came, 
she  knew  he  was  there.  And  when,  after  a  battle 
called  "  Chickamauga,"  there  came  a  tiny  package 
from  that  far-away  place,  she  stood  in  the  dusk  of  the 
old  temple,  and  slipped  the  ring  of  the  Aztec  eagle 
again  on  her  finger.  Then  she  knew  that  the  end 
of  the  separation  had  ccme. 

"If  it  were  any  other  woman  than  you,  Raquel 
Arteaga,  men  would  say  you  rode  to  meet  a  lover, 

[377] 


^^* 

I 


•^•^ 

H 


U 

*c* 


FOR     THE     SOUL     OF    RAFAEL 

when  you  gallop  like  that  in  the  night,  and  come  back 
looking  as  if  you  had  just  been  kissed,"  said  Teresa, 
with  watchful  malice.  "The  old  Indios  say  that  you 
bathe  in  the  night  dews  as  a  charm  to  keep  young 
always.  But  why  do  you  ride  alone  ?  " 

"Alone  ?  "  The  woman  who  the  old  courtier  had 
said  held  the  opal  fires  of  Mexico  in  her  heart  smiled 
on  her  sister-in-law  at  that  question,  and  the  dusk 
shadows  of  night  and  mystery  were  in  her  violet 
eyes.  "I  am  never  alone  now,  Teresa.  It  is  a 
long  time  since  I  felt  alone,  a  very  long  time." 


THE    END 


[378] 


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